


Point it Home

by chickentine



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-02-06 08:06:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1850650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chickentine/pseuds/chickentine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He was damned, he realized with a jolt, so utterly damned if he stopped now, after everything."</p><p>The delicate hands that always held his with tenderness now gripped his soul as they slipped away. The bright curls that shone everyday never dispelled the darkness of her longing. </p><p>A story developed according to and inspired by the lyrics of "Falling Slowly" from the musical ONCE.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. all the more for that

**Author's Note:**

> Falling Slowly has been one of my favorite songs. It has so much longing and wonder in it and I somehow thought that it would be a great backdrop for my current OTP. I love the complexities in Meryl and Charlie's story, particularly with how the people in the fandom have seen and developed it through fanfiction and amazing tumblr posts. Even if the core questions are the same ("how can you pretend to be in love for seventeen years without any of it being real?"), there are so many ways of fleshing it out, and this is my contribution to that. 
> 
> I'm on tumblr as infinitelyquintessential (there's francessays too, but while it's my main blog, it's been defunct and I've stopped using it). I lurk around a lot, liking posts with a passion. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_I don't know you_

_But I want you_

_All the more for that_

 

People thought that, after seventeen years, they would have completely known each other inside and out, down to the nitty-gritty of their flaws, to the little nuances in moods, to the infinitesimal things that made them _them._ They were probably right.

           

Charlie, for one, knew that Meryl’s eyebrows were not always just penciled-in and carefully groomed factors in her now-famous visage. They were signals, little hints into what she truly thought at a particular moment. He knew all too well that a raised eyebrow did not always mean skepticism, nor relaxed ones mean calm seas within.

 

“How do you feel about Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir’s new reality show? How did you see the way they portrayed you?” one nosy reporter edged in an otherwise pleasant interview post-Grand Prix Finals a couple of years back.

 

Meryl let out a little laugh. Out of habit, Charlie glanced at Meryl as she gave their approved, civil, media-generic answer. To everyone else, there was not a trace of animosity in the room, not from Tessa and Scott in the far end of the hall giving their own interviews, not from the other reporters who set aside their disbelief at the oddity in the question, and certainly not from Meryl, with her little laugh and perfectly enunciated response.

 

In his mind, Charlie was in stitches. If everyone had seventeen years to observe, they would know instantly that Meryl was _not pleased_ with the question. There was a certain curve and tension in her eyebrows despite her smile and pleasant tone. Charlie knew that Meryl _loathed_ questions that stirred any bit of tension between them and the other skaters. He glanced back at the reporter who hung on to every word, hoping for a wrong adjective here and there from the ever-unflappable Meryl Davis and basking in the glow that was in Meryl’s perfect smile. He would never know that Meryl was seething and would possibly, in her kindest way possible, casually blacklist the reporter as another of those personal-matter-intrusive-lowlifes. _Wrong move, buddy._

 

It wasn’t just the eyebrows, of course. Charlie _knew_ Meryl in ways greater than any of her boyfriends ever did. He has, after all, has spent much of the last seventeen years in contact with her neck, her chest (courtesy of Marina’s sensual programs that involved much tender stroking) down to the slightly protruding ribs, her thin waist, and even her _inner thighs_ (because of their world-famous split rotational lifts). He knew when she was depressed or frustrated. He knew her at her best, standing on podiums, clutching his hand, with the ever-choking, blinding, desperate, utter joy at fulfilling lifelong dreams. And he knew her at her worst, which, if he had to be perfectly honest, was never truly _horrible._

 

So when the day came for them to decide the next step, the next chapter in their lives, he saw, to his surprise, a myriad of emotions he hadn’t seen on her before. It was not the right time to contemplate it. They were sitting in a conference room at Arctic Edge, silent, just as they usually did. Only this time, there was an insurmountable weight of uncertainty. They had done _so much_ , and ticked off possibly every single item in their bucket list as athletes. They were Olympic champions, two-time World Champions, and had more Grand Prix Final and National championships than any other pair in _history._ She was a _Dancing with the Stars_ champion and he was now a fiancé. What came next?

 

“Retirement?” he asked softly, hating the way the word rolled over in his tongue, the way her eyebrows were, for once, utterly inexpressive, the way innumerable emotions flitted across her face and how he, for once, did not know what was on her mind.

 

Her hands – hands he gripped, fingers that intertwined with his more perfectly than anyone else’s, hands that clenched into fists in her rare bursts of anger, hands that _always_ found their way on his back after every exhausting program, hands that brushed away his tears and frustration and messy golden curls – closed delicately on top of the table, giving him a glint of her decade-old ring. She remained silent.

 

And for what felt like the first time in seventeen years, Charlie saw that he did not completely know her, after all. That there were so many nuances and gaps and expressions and emotions he did not know yet.

 

He was damned, he realized with a jolt, so utterly _damned_ if he stopped now, after everything. If he stopped what he realized was his journey to _knowing_ Meryl.

 

There was so much more to know and there was no way, not for all the trophies and medals he crawled and fought his way for, that he was going to stop knowing Meryl.


	2. Always fool me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two, which is technically two parts put together.   
> In which words fall through, fool, and erase while games play out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is much longer than the first. I've placed two segments (one segment is equal to a set of three lines from the song) together. 
> 
> Enjoy reading!

_Words fall through me_

_And always fool me_

_And I can't react_

Meryl Davis had an interesting relationship with words. Growing up with dyslexia, words confused and frustrated her, slowed her down, marked an imperfection in an otherwise perfect academic life. But she grew to love them, the way they spun stories and tales and epics she loved only second to skating. Words soon became her weapon as she became to be one of the most eloquent skaters in the United States Figure Skating Association. With her safe, well phrased, and insightful statements, she was a publicist’s dream, a sports writer’s reliable source of quotes, and a tabloid writer’s nightmare. She had a formidable vocabulary, impeccable handwriting, and a precise sense of grammar. Few words and expressions – in English, Italian, and French – were ever unfamiliar to her. 

            On that fine summer day in the confines of Arctic Edge’s conference room, she found the word almost hostile in its unfamiliarity.

            “Retirement?” Charlie had asked softly, but it nevertheless felt like a sharp, deafening blow. _No,_ she corrected herself, _a numbness. Like ice on your face._ Then _a sharp deafening blow._

She couldn’t react. What was there to say? It was a word that was both achingly unfamiliar yet undeniably ubiquitous. It had always been the end of the long dark tunnel she had traversed quite well for seventeen years. Retirement, at least to her, was unthinkable after their silver-medal-win in Vancouver. There was no point, she thought, at backing out of a race so close to the finish line, to quit the war after winning so many battles.

            But with Charlie’s quiet question – _suggestion –_ she realized that this was no post-Vancouver scenario. This was post-Sochi. They had a few more years and a possible quad in them and seventeen years of success and training behind them. They had an Olympic gold to back them up in every competition they chose to grace with their presence from then on. But they _had_ achieved everything they wanted. Everything they, or any figure skater or athlete, could possibly want. They were at a mountain summit, with the choice of gracefully descending, or choosing to leap to another higher peak. It was justifiably the most perfect time to check out, to take their final bow on the competitive stage for good. They had college degrees to finish, other professions and endeavors shoved to the side of their skating and now ready to be experienced and fulfilled, and Charlie had a family to begin. They could retire as heroes, perpetually the Disney prince and princess America had grown to love.

            Logic was always Meryl Davis’s best friend. And all logic pointed to Charlie’s suggestion as not only apt, but insanely pleasurable as well.

            But there was a part of her, vicious and unyielding, that refused to agree. Perhaps it was her intense competitive spirit, honed with care for seventeen years. Perhaps it was the sheer unfamiliarity of the concept – retirement, _really?_ – that made it seem so implausible and unreal. And if she was truly honest with herself, perhaps it was the chokingly unwelcome and unsaid separation of Team Davis and White, the _moving on_ , the farewell to the man who was simply, undeniably _Charlie White._

Charlie had placed the ball in her court. She had to say something. She had to _react._

            She must have looked like an ungraceful guppy, opening her mouth and closing it, eyes flicking around the room looking for a clue on what she could say for such an important, important matter, fingers closing and unclenching, until finally, her eyes rested on Charlie, who was staring at her with a mixture of confusion and something else unreadable.

            “Eh,” she said. _Way to go, girl. Way to go._

            Baffled, Charlie grinned, seemingly just as at loss for words. Meryl smiled back sheepishly and lifted an eyebrow as Charlie started chuckling.

            Unable to help herself, she began giggling at the ridiculousness of the situation. It was one word, just _one_ word, which launched her into a little deep melodramatic introspection and there she was again, overthinking things as usual and confusing poor Charlie.

            Their eyes met and their laughter grew until they were both doubled over on the desk, guffawing and snorting back laughter like they were not so close to ending a seventeen-year segment of their lives mere seconds earlier.

            “ _Why are we laughing?_ ” Meryl wailed between giggles.

            Charlie only glanced back at her for a second and resumed laughing with what seemed like his entire body, to the ends of his now-sparse curls. He was gasping and for a moment Meryl was terrified that he was having an asthma attack because they simply couldn’t stop laughing for no reason.

            Finally, their laughter subsided into hiccups and slight wheezes.

            “You,” Charlie began with a broad grin. “You should have seen your _face,_ Meryl Davis.”

            Meryl hiccupped and stuck her tongue out at him. Perhaps all that laughter had robbed her wits for a moment or suppressed her turmoil so violently, she couldn’t help herself as she blurted almost casually “I think _you_ should. You won’t be seeing it so much anymore, after all.”

            She felt like crying.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_And games that never amount_

_To more than they're meant_

_Will play themselves out_

“I think _you_ should. You won’t be seeing it so much anymore, after all.”

Meryl looked like she was about to burst into mortified tears. And at that moment, Charlie absolutely _refused_ to ruin the last five minutes of genuine laughter that, if truth be told, was the highlight of a week filled to the brim with wedding planning sessions at his parents’ home where his sisters were staying for the vacation, his sister’s infuriating fixation with Meryl’s dances during their stint with _Dancing with the Stars_ that meant he had to see Maks’s gigantic hands all over Meryl on the big screen in their family den every time he came over, and Tanith’s constant queries on finalizing the entourage list. Everything had been right with the world when he dissolved into unending laughter with Meryl and watched as Meryl gasped and giggled so hard, tears started leaking out of her eyes. So if he had to wear his heart on his sleeve and tap into the vast, ominous depths of his feelings about their partnership, just to keep Meryl – and himself – from thinking of a Team-Davis-and-White-less future they haven’t even decided on yet, so be it.  “I won’t be seeing it so much anymore?” he began, leaning forward on the table. Meryl looked up, confused. Firming up his resolve, Charlie continued.

“Meryl, I have spent much of the last three days convincing Tanith of your _superb_ skills so that she’d take you on in planning the wedding. It’s bound to happen in a year, by spring.” He rolled his eyes. He wanted an outdoor winter wedding, with views of snowy mountains and endless pine trees and instant ice rinks by the lakes. Tanith had bluntly refused, saying that under no terms was she to get married in winter-worthy gear, no matter how well done.

“So,” he continued. “I’ll be seeing your face for that _every single day._ And that’s on top of the Japan tour rehearsals and choreography sessions and traveling time. More of your face there, right? You’ll be there on my wedding day and I’ll see your face as you walk down the aisle – ”

 _All dressed in white,_ a voice that sounded suspiciously like his own piped up, unbidden, in his mind, choking him off for a second. Charlie cleared his throat. _What the hell was that?_

“ – all dressed in lavender – that’s the color I convinced Tanith to anchor our theme on – and you’ll be the best bridesmaid _ever._ And when the whole wedding thing’s done, I’d still be seeing _your face_ every time I unlock my phone and our picture in Sochi – still the most marvelous day of my life, Meryl, I swear to you – shows up with your face. We’ll always be having lunches at the diner down the road because it’d go out of business without us, remember? We’d have barbecues too, and skiing trips because this is _Michigan_ and camping sessions and dinners at my place or yours, with our families there, just as it always has been. I’ll go for baseball with Clayton, you’ll go for your usual little manicure sessions with my sisters. You think I won’t be seeing your face much anymore? Beep. You’re wrong, Davis. Absolutely wrong.”

Charlie knew that he had said too much. Meryl’s stunned face confirmed it. But he couldn’t help himself. This was the tip of the iceberg of a whole untouched realm of his gratefulness and _love_ for Meryl, and it was playing itself out of his heart uncontrollably.

“I said it in those interviews, Mer. This is a partnership for _life._ ”

The same unbidden voice in his head questioned the validity of ‘partnership for life’ as a statement. _Aren’t those used for marriages?_

“This is more than a partnership,” he went on, shoving aside the unwelcome internal interruption. “This is a _friendship,_ and I’m not skating or running or walking or crawling away from it anytime soon. You’re more that my partner, Mer. You are my _friend._ And whether we retire right this second or crawl to Marina right now and beg for new programs for the next year, you’re _not getting rid of me._ ”

He ended his little, impassioned tirade. Meryl’s expression was again unreadable. Then slowly, a grin spread on her face.

“My, my, _my,_ Charlie White,” she drawled. “Who knew you had quite a wonderful heart of gold and sentimentality right there?”

Charlie felt relieved – no teary return of sentiments, no obvious need for more effort to drive home his point that it was Team Davis and White _for life._ This was the Meryl the rest of the world did not know about – spunky, self-deprecating, and most importantly, superlatively perceptive.

“Let’s stick to the present,” Meryl began, her face set in concentration. “Let’s take this season off, what do you think? It’s too late to conceptualize programs that surpass our previous ones, not with Sochi so recent. And you – _we,_ apparently – need to get marri – I mean, plan your wedding.” Meryl flushed scarlet briefly, and continued.

“So, what do you think? Sit this one out? We’d have all the time to really contemplate our future after. No press deadlines, no celebrity tabloids, no frou-frous, and the world would’ve probably forgotten us by then.”

For the umpteenth time, Charlie was impressed. Now, _this_ was the Meryl everyone knew – goal-oriented, logical, and practical. But he wasn’t surprised when he realized that his answer had been the same all along. Temporary, it may seem, but it was the best way to do it.

“You have yourself a deal, Meryl Davis, exalted winner of the mirror ball trophy,” he intoned, holding out his hand.

Meryl whacked him on his shoulder before grasping his hand, intertwining her fingers with his and flashing him a brilliant smile. All was right with the world.

 _Damn, I_ love _that girl,_ came the unbidden voice in his head _again._

This time, he could only agree wholeheartedly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so so grateful for all the support I've received for my first chapter! Writing this has become addictive and even if I don't 'beta' my work or even read through the whole thing right after, I still feel a sense of pride at putting something together for one of my not-so-secret interest nowadays! 
> 
> Thank you to those who've read and commented! Keep commenting! 
> 
> Working on the next one fairly soon. I aim to finish the entire thing in three weeks.


	3. Sinking Boat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter three  
> Sinking, running out of time and running out of words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took some time, but here is what will hopefully be the longest chapter of this fic! I had plans to split it into two parts, but I think that this goes along well with the structure and the words of the original inspiration. 
> 
> This is one of my favorite parts of Falling Slowly, and I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! 
> 
> Reminding everyone that so many of this is very fictional, and I may have taken great liberties with names, facts, events, even character personalities. This is fan fiction, after all, and I firmly believe that we can go great lengths with our creative license in this world, as long as no one in the real world is harmed or put in danger.

_Take this sinking boat and point it home_

_We've still got time_

           

 _Malls are great,_ Meryl thought dully as she walked aimlessly through the rows of shops. It was a rare luxury, after all, to stroll in a public place with no purpose. This was – partly – the point of every little break they took: to experience a ‘normal’ life away from training sessions and costume adjustments and media engagements, to build up enough pent-up energy to get them ready and wanting for the succeeding season.

But they had no succeeding season, not this time. And she would be completely lying if she said that Charlie’s upcoming wedding was to be the highlight of her vacation.

She walked on. Westland Center was not crowded that day, but filled with just enough wandering shoppers to let her walk through safely and aimlessly alone. She had driven there after her little meeting with Charlie, brushing off his offer of company in favor of solitude.

 _I’ll just go for a little walk,_ she had told him. Charlie had glanced skeptically at her car keys in her hand and her flimsy flats. Meryl had kept silent, knowing that Charlie knew her enough to understand that she wanted time alone.

 _Okay,_ Charlie had said reluctantly, _but do make it to my parents’ place for dinner, yes? Mother hasn’t seen you in a while. Alfredo for dinner!_

Meryl had smiled then, agreed, and went her way. Some things never changed.

So there she was, in a slightly gloomy mall in the outskirts of Canton, with Jacqui White’s famous pasta to look forward to, and an hour to burn in which she did not need to face a single reminder of a million unanswered questions, many of which she knew would never be answered.

The problem, however, was that the mall – _capitalist bigots,_ she snarled inside, uncharacteristically – reminded her of _everything._

“GET A RETIREMENT PLAN TODAY,” read one insurance company office. Meryl forcefully walked on.

“CAN’T MESS IT, CAN’T MISS IT! CANTAMESSA JEWELRY ON SALE TODAY!” was printed on big block letters on another storefront. Groaning at the badly made pun, Meryl walked on, trying not to think of checking her Instagram account later on to thousands of new comments, all begging her to “ _pls pls pls marry Maks and have his babies!!!”_ Maks was definitely a great friend. He was passionate and forceful and sweet and tender. But while Meryl _would_ date him, she could not see a blissful future with him by her side nor could she stomach the thought of a life of traveling ballrooms and intrigue and gossip and being introduced on tabloids as _Mrs. Chmerkovskiy_. She was an _Olympian,_ for goodness’ sake, not tabloid fodder. When she did settle down, she would still be _Meryl_ and an _Olympian,_ not reduced to a tabloid’s idea of a trophy wife. Maks had been wonderful, yes, but for her foreseeable future, a Chmerkovskiy-Davis relationship wasn’t going to sail, not at all.

Meryl strode on faster, trying to focus on the little girl walking the other way. The little girl had wide-set eyes and waves of dark curls. And she was clutching a puppy – with _golden curls,_ Meryl noted blandly, resignedly – and looked incredibly blissful to have such a fur ball of delight in her tiny arms. Meryl sighed and looked up in frustration.

And beheld a ceiling-installed poster of an Abercrombie model.

 _Oh for Marina’s sake,_ she thought, belatedly remembering that this was the mall Fedor had dubbed “trash,” much to her chagrin. Breaking up with Fedor had raised more questions instead of solving problems, like she thought it would. She could never forget the way his face softened in quiet surrender, his uncharacteristically chaste kiss on her lips, the way he combed his fingers through his hair as he walked away, his normally proud shoulders slumped in defeat.

There were relationships in life, she realized, that have run their natural course and must end. _But that never means that they are forgotten._

She sat on the nearest bench, sipping absently at her Starbucks. She had loved Fedor. Charlie had been unspeakably furious when he found out about their relationship but for the first time in their adult career, Meryl explicitly stood him down. It had taken all of her, she remembered, not to bitingly mention how Charlie had begun dating _Tanith_ during what felt like the most important season of their career. Instead, she snapped at him, telling him that in no uncertain terms was he going to put Fedor down for his skating career or personal life. Charlie had glared at her, and then acquiesced. Meryl thought she scored a victory that day, until word reached her about a certain _talk_ between her partner and Fedor in the Arctic Edge parking lot later on. Charlie had never followed Fedor on Instagram, or accepted his Facebook friend request, but Meryl took what she could.

Mulling over her macchiato and twisting the ring on her finger absently, she sat for a while, thinking of Fedor’s eyes, his strong arms, his love for expensive cars and watches. It was odd how she stayed with him for so long. There were moments in those few years that she wished she could redo, but there were moments, too, which she would not exchange for the world.

There was another jewelry store directly before her bench. It was a classier establishment, tastefully done, and backed by tradition and history. Seeing that she had enough time, she moved forward and skimmed the display, breath catching almost immediately at a simple engagement band, with a perfect diamond perched securely on one end.

It was the same ring Charlie used to propose to Tanith, the ring Meryl had very publicly complimented as she wished them her congratulations. And of all the unanswered questions and uncertainties she had in her heart, _that_ was one she never wanted to be reminded about.

There was an _ocean_ of emotions in her soul – in her _being_ – for Charlie. There was support, companionship, respect, partnership, professional commitment, yes. But above all, there was _love._ They had never shied away from expressing love, even as they bluntly told thousands of reporters and themselves that it was _never_ romantic. But Meryl knew that there was a hint of dishonesty in their disclaimers, in their denials. She saw it – she _felt_ it – in every passionate program, in every warm embrace after every program, in Charlie’s blinding, incomparable smile that seemed to be reserved for only her, in his sparkling eyes, in the desperate way he gripped her as they danced on skates and on the floor in their Dancing with the Stars stint, in the desperate _joy_ when he gasped out, for the first time, ‘I love you,’ at the end of their most blindingly brilliant moment on ice. It would be a lie to say that they _never_ saw each other romantically. And if Meryl scratched away at years’ worth of toughened beliefs on the importance of partnership over passion, of not fixing what isn’t broken over going for what the heart wanted, of the thousands of uttered and unspoken boundaries on their relationship, she would find an enormous wealth of _love_ no one, not even herself, could possibly deny.

She _loved_ Charlie. It was an almost desperate, yet meekly hidden sort of love that told her that she _couldn’t –_ no, _wouldn’t ­–_ want to face life without him by her side. It had taken her a long time to realize it and a great deal of the world famous Davis and White perseverance and commitment to shove it down, deep down until she had forgotten about it and allowed it to show only in the four minutes of their free dances.

If Meryl had deep, dark secrets, they were every single night she lay awake, unblinking, on her bed, wondering how her life would be have been so different had they not promised to remain platonic for the sake of their partnership. They were the nights she cried herself to sleep, wishing beyond belief that their Olympic dream did not stand so firmly between her and her happiness.

She had thought and hoped, quite foolishly as she realized now, that after the Olympics and Dancing with the Stars, she could finally, _finally_ chase down Charlie, pull him close, and tell him _everything,_ Tanith and adolescent promises be damned.

But Charlie dashed her little fantasy when he sat next to her a few months earlier – right after Dancing with the Stars – and told her, quietly, with a strain in his voice, that there was something he had to do.

 _Are you going to propose to Tanith?_ Meryl had asked, trying to choke down the agonizing lump in her throat.

Charlie stayed silent. Meryl stayed still, hoping, waiting, wishing that the killing blow to her fantasies would just _finally_ fall.

 _Yes,_ Charlie had finally choked out, and Meryl’s long-harbored fantasy crumbled, fell. She remembered involuntary picturing a dilapidated, yet well-loved boat, seemingly abandoned at harbor that had finally slipped under the calm waters with the weight of years of dashed dreams and suppressed hopes.

Meryl had glanced down at her lap, stilling the sea of _no’s_ in her mind, the crashing waterfall of despair. _This is how it ends,_ she had thought. And smiling with what she had hoped looked like her whole heart, she had looked up at Charlie and said,

_You better not be wearing that Ralph Lauren shirt when you pop the question, okay?_

Standing now before the display case with the copy of Tanith’s ring in it, Meryl felt a tear slide down, followed by another, and another, until she felt them in her collarbone. _Stop, right now, I’m in public,_ she angrily told herself.

Chuckling humorlessly to herself and taking a deep, shaky breath, she swiped at her eyes with her wrist and turned around – only to find herself staring directly at a Ralph Lauren boutique.

As she spun on her heel and very, _very_ forcefully walked away, she couldn’t help herself as she thought,

 _I would let Charlie wear the same damn shirt_ every day _for the rest of his life if it meant I would be around him, next to him, to see him put it on in the morning and pull it off at night._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Of all his sisters, Charlie was closest to Charlotte, who was older by a year. It was a White family joke, how they were both ‘Char White,’ until eight-year-old Charlie put his foot down one day and yelled “MOM, IT’S CHAR-LEY!!!” leaving everyone in the vicinity giggling and Charlotte raising an eyebrow spectacularly at him.

It was a love-hate sort of sibling relationship, just as most sibling relationships were wont to be. Charlotte had jeered at Charlie’s ponytail for their Paso Doble compulsory back in 2008, but sent a short, sweet message after the disastrous 2008 Cup of Russia original dance. Charlotte was insanely perceptive as well, flashing Charlie a worried, apologetic glance from her spot at the audience after Meryl and Maks’ sensual, almost obscene samba, instead of after his elimination, as many expected. Charlie loved all his sisters equally, but with her uncanny perception and a long shared history of sleepy car rides home after class and bunking together because of their close ages, he trusted Charlotte the most.

With this sort of history, Charlie was utterly confused – and annoyed, if he ever came to admitting it – when he entered the family den to find Charlotte lounging on the couch, watching the finale of Dancing with the Stars for the umpteenth time that week.

It was the Argentine Tango and Meryl was swirling around Maks’s arms like she belonged there. Some of the lifts were skating moves, Charlie involuntarily observed.  

 _Not like she does in mine,_ came the old unbidden voice in Charlie’s head.

 _Oh god, not that again. For a man in his mid-twenties, I think too weirdly,_ Charlie thought.

 _But this is real,_ the unbidden _him_ piped up again.

Shaking his head to himself and stomach clenching at the sight of Meryl’s face placed inches away from her onscreen partner just like it used to with him a thousand times on ice, he cleared his throat.

“Hey, Char,” drawled Charlotte, not taking her eyes off the screen. “Where’ve you been?”

Charlie rolled his eyes. “Where’s Tanith? And everyone else?”

Charlotte sighed and sat up, reluctantly placing the television on mute. “Mom and our other … siblings,” she paused, tasting the oddity of the word. “Ugh. They’re at the grocery, buying last-minute dinner things for tonight. They’re pretty excited to see Meryl and her parents and uh, Clayton, you know? I mean, we haven’t seen her in _ever._ Dad’s in the garage, fixing the car.”

Charlie had to smile. Few things ever really changed – his family simply loved Meryl, and that was that.

“And Tanith?”

His sister rolled her eyes. Charlie glared at her. It had long been an open secret, but Charlotte and Tanith simply did not _click._ They were civil, yes, but among others, Tanith never understood Charlotte’s penchant for sarcasm nor did Charlotte appreciate Tanith’s animosity for dogs that weren’t DJ. Charlie was not supposed to know, but the glares directed at Charlotte by their oldest sister, Catherine, at every awkward dinner moment went unnoticed.

            “Tanith’s fetched something from your house, I think,” said Charlotte, moving to unmute the volume of the television. She paused, seemingly thinking better of it, and set the remote down again. “Hey Charlie?”

            “Yeah?” Charlie had leaned on the doorframe comfortably. He was home alone with his favorite sister. There were worse ways to pass the time.

            He saw Charlotte’s eyes rove over the fully cluttered coffee table between the couch and the fireplace. It was strewn with color swatches in the lavender-lilac color scheme, menu options, wedding gown designs, guest lists, and a whole slew of wedding paraphernalia. Tanith had insisted on planning the wedding themselves, with no wedding planner except for the day itself. Charlotte had vocally objected, only to be silenced by Catherine’s loud assurances of their support. Charlie was not there, but he knew of it. He always did – he liked to believe that he was a smidge more perceptive than people believed him to be.

            Charlie copied Charlotte, eyes grazing across the table and up on the mantelpiece where photographs were proudly displayed. There were many of him and Meryl in various competitions. There was one of them during _Samson and Delilah,_ autographed and framed. There were a couple of them post-victory as novices and juniors. And there was his secret favorite, the photograph of them in _Scheherazade_ during Sochi, in the happiest part of the program where they just gazed at each other, fingers intertwined. Many of his photographs on the mantel were with Meryl, in their happiest moments. She _was_ a gigantic part of his life. And suddenly, he felt sick at the thought of marrying Tanith with a predominantly _lavender_ scheme.

            “Charlie,” Charlotte was serious. And Charlie remembered that he had not talked to his sister, just the two of them, since the pre-Sochi days. “Are you sure about this?”

            _Sure about what?_ seemed like the appropriate response, but Charlie couldn’t bring himself to say it. He knew exactly what his sister was talking about. He asked himself the same question every hour of the last couple of weeks since the engagement.

            In their partnership, people saw Charlie as the spontaneous one to perfectly counterbalance Meryl’s goal-oriented mindset. But few people knew that Charlie was just as goal-oriented as Meryl, only disguised in his more genial demeanor and bouncing curls of joy. He wouldn’t be an Olympic champion if he did not have firmly-set goals. The difference lay, however, in how he set them. He had goals for his personal life – perfect girlfriend by twenty-two, engagement by twenty-six, Olympic championship and marriage before thirty. It seemed only right. He wanted no fuss – something his twenty identical Ralph Lauren shirts and unchanging style of clothing could attest to. There were a few concessions – an unexpected skating show here and there, Dancing with the Stars – but all fell neatly in the pockets of time he allowed for ‘anything-goes’ after every season. Tanith had come at a perfect time and was a perfect woman. He loved his girlfriend and wasted no time telling the world exactly that. Proposing to her felt only natural, right, _proper._

            So he did, seeking Meryl’s blessing. And she gave it. But he hadn’t missed the quiver in her chin, the slight gloss in her eyes as she gave her support with a feeble joke.

            And if he did have a deep, dark secret, it would be how he wished, in that moment, she had said something, _anything_ else but support. That maybe she would perhaps lean into him, hold him close, and tell him she loved him. He wouldn’t know what to do, but he would know that he had the _love_ of the girl who kept him awake at night even as he repeatedly told himself and believed that he _loved_ his girlfriend in ways his love for Meryl couldn’t reach.

            When he had announced their engagement a few weeks back, Charlotte had looked at him with shock written so plainly in her face. _We always thought it would be Meryl,_ her eyes seemed to say.

            _So did I,_ he had thought, involuntarily. _But this is right. This is real. This is love,_ he said to himself resolutely, dipping Tanith back to give her a kiss.

            Now, however, he stood, staring blankly at Meryl in the arms of another man on television, his sister looking at him with a mixture of apology and pity and understanding and _hope,_ his mind paralyzed with her words.

            _Are you sure about this?_

            If he was perfectly honest, without bias, without any trace of typical cold feet, he knew that the answer was a resolute _no._

            He could live with Tanith. He _was_ living with Tanith.

            But he couldn’t live without Meryl.

            Was there a difference? He could have both, but he knew it wasn’t the same. Meryl was different, Meryl was his childhood, his victory, Meryl was his best friend, Meryl was supposed to be _his._

            The finale episode was now on his personal favorite part, his dance with Meryl. It was bliss, it was joy, it was _right._

            But maybe that was it.

            Charlotte stared at him and said, quietly,

            “You’ve still got time.”

            And Charlie, turning to walk out of the den, swept his eyes over the mess on the table, Tanith’s careful handwriting on the sheets of paper and forms and plans, the swatches of lavender almost precisely the shade of Meryl’s _Scheherazade_ dress.

            “No, I don’t.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! It means so much to me to have people read my fic and leave comments. I may have made them a bit out-of-character, so I do apologize for that! I'm sorry about the length as well, but I did prioritize putting them together for thematic effect. 
> 
> I hope I didn't paint anyone in too negative a light. 
> 
> Thank you everyone and I hope to see your comments! They always make my day!


	4. you have a choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, you need a Scott Moir (and an Alex Shibutani) to see things the right way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been itching to update for quite some time and this did not go as planned! Hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

_Raise your hopeful voice you have a choice_

_You'll make it now_

Charlie ran his fingers through what Charlotte had dubbed – _snarled –_ as his “miserable excuse for curls.” He raised his fist hesitantly on the sleek white door, steeled himself, and knocked.

            The door swung open, revealing a – _thankfully dressed,_ Charlie thought with a breath of relief – bemused-looking Scott Moir.

            “Charlie!”

            “Scott!”

            With a rhythm borne out of years of companionship, they gave each other a fist-pump, followed by a warm hug, with Scott still staring in utter bemusement.

            Charlie scratched his head. “Um, may I come in?”

            Scott shook himself into awareness, yanked the door wide, and gestured in.

            “Welcome to my humble abode.”

            Charlie snorted. It was not, by any means, humble. He had driven for a couple of hours on an otherwise fine weeknight to Scott Moir’s dazzling new condominium unit at the edge of the metropolis. After their unannounced retirement, he had purchased the place, fitted it out, and dubbed it his ‘American abode.’ It was a bachelor’s dream – minimalist, fuss-free, and with the best couches money could buy. There was a floor-to-ceiling window that offered a stunning view of the city in its lit-up glory. At the center stood his pride and glory, a forty-two inch high-resolution television.

            Scott threw himself on a couch, propped his feet on the coffee table, and laced his fingers behind his head.

            “So, what brings you here?”

            Charlie sat himself on the opposite identical couch and shrugged.

            “I don’t know. I just wanted to … drop by?”

            Scott snorted.

            “Charlie, _Charlie._ You drove for – hmm, two hours? – from your beloved suburb to _drop by?_ With a duffel bag? Not that I don’t want you here, man. You know how much I miss you, bro. But the sudden visit in the middle of the week? Totally not your style, bro. Not at all.”

            “Uh, Tanith’s in LA for the week and – ”

            “Ah,” Scott nodded knowingly. “While the cat’s out, the mouse goes play.”

            Charlie glared at him. Then sighed, throwing himself to lie on the couch.

            “I don’t know, Scott. I’m just so … _confused._ ”

            Scott raised his eyebrows and with a mock frown, he said, “You know what this means, Charlie?”

            _Oh god no,_ Charlie thought.

            “ _Team Canton sleepover!”_

            _Wait, what?_ With almost ten years of sharing a rink, a coach, and thousand little stories and games, Charlie knew to always expect the unexpected from Scott. And apparently, he was wrong that night.

            “I invited Alex to come over. He’ll be here in a bit. I don’t know – we’ve been planning this thing for so _long._ I missed that guy, you know? And with you all busy with ballroom dancing and getting engaged, I thought that _heeey,_ it’d just be two-thirds of Team Canton. Nothing serious. Just a few games, a few beers – ”

            “I _love_ you, Scott Moir,” Charlie blurted out. And he meant it. He had come for a bit of decompressing. It had been a couple of days since his little chat with Charlotte and he had spent most of it in a haze. With Tanith away, Meryl with her family in Colorado again, and his family off to their own devices, Charlie had no one but himself and he was going crazy mulling over things that he normally wouldn’t bother thinking about. His visit to Scott Moir’s new place had been intended as a sort of release and now, it appeared that he was getting more than he had hoped.

            “I know, Charlie, I know.”

            An hour later, the three Canton boys had had a bottle of ridiculously expensive beer each and were now lazily lounging around the twin couches.

            “Damn, I missed you guys,” Alex drawled from his spot on the floor. They had tired themselves out with a round of Grand Theft Auto and debating on the pizza flavor to order.

            “I know, Shibu. I missed you too,” Charlie said, gazing up at Scott’s intricate light fixture.

            Scott sat up and stared at Charlie.

            “Charlie, spill.”

            “What?” Charlie tried to play innocent and absently thought of the meme he saw floating around recently. _I came here to have a good time and I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now._

“Yeah, Charlie,” Alex piped up. “What’s the deal?”

            “What are you talking about?” Charlie tried to play innocent, only to meet Scott’s unwavering glare.

            “Alright, _alright,_ ” he muttered.

            “So, I’m supposed to be happy now, right?” he began, and waited for Scott’s sarcastic reply. To his surprise, Scott only stared him down. “ _Right._ Like hey, I’m engaged to this beautiful woman and I _love_ her. I mean, who wouldn’t? She’s gorgeous and smart and kind and patient. Damn, she’s _patient._ ”

            “Yeah, I would know,” muttered Scott.

            Charlie plodded on. “Tanith – she’s stayed in the sidelines while I had the _time of my life_ for five years. Can you imagine? Like we go out there and dance and win and win again and become rock stars and Tanith’s just there and I know she’s waiting. And I love her, I do. And now I’m supposed to be complete and right. Hell, I’m _always_ supposed to be complete and right. I have an Olympic gold medal, I have a gorgeous girlfriend, I’m a semifinalist in _Dancing with the Stars,_ my partner _won_ that damn show, what more am I supposed to want? And the wedding preparations are underway, I’m on a season break from skating, I have a _year_ to do what I want, I don’t have to be on ice for a _year._ ”

            “Hey! We’re going to Japan, doofus! And your other Disson show!” Alex yelled.

            Charlie slammed a hand on his forward. _How could he have forgotten that?_ But then he would be lying if he said that a piece of his soul did not fall into place at that time. Skating has formed a gigantic part of his life. He wasn’t parting with it anytime soon.

            “Oh, right we are. And I can’t wait,” he said, grinning at Alex. Scott only scowled.

            “So anyway, I’m happy and all and I promise Meryl that we’re not parting anytime soon because we’re connected _for life_ and I mean it, with all my heart. And everything’s okay, everything’s fine, until I come home and Charlotte asks me, ‘Are you sure?’” Charlie glimpsed Scott and Alex exchanging a quick glance.

            He went on. “Am I sure? Am I sure about what? About my wedding? You bet that two-thousand-grand engagement ring _I am._ ” Charlie choked a bit at the unbidden voice in his head that asked, suspiciously, _Really?_

“But there are times – _god_ there are times where I just wonder if I really am. So I go brush off Charlotte. She tells me some crap about how ‘there’s still time.’ But there isn’t. Any pig with a brain can see that. There _isn’t._ I’m engaged to my girlfriend of _five years_ and there’s no looking back.”

“Isn’t time to what?” Scott asked quietly.

Charlie let out a sarcastic laugh. “I don’t even _know,_ Scott. It’s like sometimes I like my arrangement with Meryl. No romantic _anything,_ except on ice on a romantic program. Like, nope, I have a girlfriend, nope, nothing’s going on between Meryl and I, nope, nope, nope. Repression, they call it? I don’t know. But really, sometimes I don’t even know what’s real and what isn’t. Like there’s this _ocean_ inside me and all it does is to call for Meryl. I look into her eyes for a free dance and in those four minutes, I just want to drown myself in them. _Everyone_ who’s seen a full run in Arctic Edge has asked me if I’m sure it isn’t real and I just nod there like a robot. Then at competitions, I go on ice and I see Tanith in the stands and I remember that I have a girlfriend, this is the world, so I remember our agreement and I tone it down a bit but she does this thing with her eyes and her eyebrows and _every free dance is a battle.”_

“Oh,” Alex piped up in wonder. “Oh damn that explains a _lot -_ ” Scott cut him off with a whack on the head and nodded to Charlie to continue. Charlie rarely talked about his deepest self and once you got him going, Scott learned, it was best not to stop him.

 _And, not to mention,_ Scott thought, _we’re reaching some major breakthrough here._

“But I love Tanith,” Charlie said plaintively, “I’m going to spend my life with her. But I know that once that happens, I can never dance with Meryl like that. I’d be a _married man._ I can’t go gazing at her and dancing with her and _laughing_ with her with my entire being if I have a _wife._ I can’t. It’s wrong. I’d be Tanith’s _completely_ or not at all.”

“Wow, this guy rarely does anything halfway, does he?” muttered Scott, before saying, loudly, “So? What seems to be the problem here? You’re getting married to her, obviously?”

Charlie sighed. “Scott, have you _not_ been listening? I _love_ Tanith. I’m supposed to. She’s my girlfriend. She’s beautiful and she’s wonderful and she’s _perfect._ ” He paused. There was something he had to say, the end-all-and-be-all of his little speech. The end-all-and-be-all of his _everything._

 _She’s not Meryl,_ the unbidden voice prompted.

“But she’s not Meryl,” Charlie said quietly, eyes downcast and with an awful finality. He looked up, expecting to see dismay in his friends’ faces. To his surprise, Scott looked a little smug and Alex had his lips pursed in a face that clearly said _hm, that makes sense now._

Charlie was about to question his friends, but the cat was out of the bag. He had _finally_ said it out loud and it felt as if a little piece of his heart snapped back in place. There was more to be said.

“I know I’m going to live with Tanith. I love her, all right? But every single time I see Meryl these days I can’t help but think of the thousand what-ifs. Like what if we never made that damn agreement. What if I said something or she said something or we both said something. _What if?_ When I laugh with her or when she smiles at me, it’s like I want to take back every damn moment we reminded each other that there’s _nothing_ between us because _for the love of everything,_ there is. It’s like I’m only fully _me_ when she’s there with me. And maybe it’s one of those ‘what if the person you fall in love with isn’t the person you’re meant to spend your life with’ things. I don’t know. I don’t care. All I know is that I can’t live without Meryl. I don’t _want_ to.”

Alex’s jaw dropped and he stared at Charlie with wide eyes.

“I’m in love with Meryl. Maybe I always have been. I don’t know. I think … I think I’ve always known that. I just never wanted to believe it.”

Scott, on the other hand, was unfazed.

“So? What seems to be the problem here?” he repeated.

Charlie looked up, startled.

_What the hell, Moir._

“Haven’t you been listening?”

“We have,” Alex put in rather petulantly. “Every word.”

Ignoring him, Charlie went on. “I love Tanith. But I can’t live without Meryl. But I’ve made the choice, haven’t I? I’m marrying Tanith. But _I can’t live without Meryl._ ”

“Yeah, yeah,” Scott went impatiently. “We got _that._ But don’t you see, Charlie? This is just another choice you have to make.”

 _Unbelievable, this guy._ “ _I already have, haven’t I?_ ”

“Oh but no, Charlie. You’re acting like _you’re already walking down the damn aisle._ Oh I’m sorry, you’re _acting like you’re married to her and you’re about to commit the adulterous scandal of the century._ For heaven’s sake, it’s not the _friggin_ end of the world! You’re engaged to Tanith, not sworn to be with her for life! You’re sister was right, bless her soul! _There’s still time and every moment you sit there contemplating your sad life, you’re running out of it!_ ”

Charlie gaped at Scott, automatically checked the liquor bottles, and, seeing them full, realized – this wasn’t Scott Moir on a drunken tirade. This was Scott Moir on an exasperated, honest tirade.

Charlie sat in stunned silence. _Stop, stop, too much truth._

Heedless, Scott went on.

“’I can’t live without Meryl, I’m marrying Tanith,’” he mimicked. “You _idiot,_ Charlie White! Oh _right,_ because people don’t break engagements off all the time! Or, I don’t know, people don’t spend their lives wondering about the ‘ _what if’s’_!”

And that moment, Charlie saw his formerly muddled and trashed up crossroads clear up. There were only two choices. He would either – honorably – break things off with Tanith, mire himself in guilt, and take his shot with Meryl _or_ he would go as planned, marry Tanith, and very possibly spend his life regretting and wondering how much happier he would be if he had married the woman he now realized was truly the love of his life.

“But,” he began desperately, “What if this Meryl thing is a temporary thing? What if she’s really just a friend? What if Tanith is the girl I’m really _supposed_ to marry?”

“You don’t marry the person you’re _supposed_ to marry, Charlie,” Alex said quietly. It was Scott’s turn to gape at him in surprise. “You marry the person you can’t imagine your future without. The person you _want_ to be with every single day.”

 _Oh god, Alex._ There was an undeniable shred of truth in Alex’s words. Judging by Scott’s frantic nodding, he wasn’t the only one who saw so. Charlie knocked back a gulp of alcohol and felt the liquid fire burning through, blazing a way through a body and mind so _utterly_ and confusedly navigating its way with a heart that had long ago been dead-set. He flung himself on the couch, hoping for a moment of _silence_ because it was all too much. Was living with the guilt and risk of breaking of the engagement better than living with the desperation, the hopelessness of the wide gaping chasm of _what if_? He really did not know. Perhaps he did not _want_ to know.

It was Scott who broke the silence

“Can you really do this, Charlie? _Not_ be with the girl you can’t live without?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope it went well! I snuck a bit of writing during my Lit and History classes (#sorrynotsorry) because I've been harboring this scene for quite some time and I've been seizing every opportunity to write it up. I do enjoy Team Canton interactions and I hope I got a bit of their dynamic right! 
> 
> Teaser for the next chapter: "Meryl leapt in the air in a little single jump, glided forward, and hopped into a simple twizzle set. She was home." 
> 
> Do leave your comments (I love them so much and if I could live on them, I would)! They're make my day every time and break the monotony and utter exhaustion of school.


	5. can't look back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are things you can't go back from and people you can't leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my favorite part of the lyrics of Falling Slowly and I hope I did it justice.   
> (It's definitely AU, but hey, we all know that, don't we?)

_Falling slowly, eyes that know me_

_And I can't go back_

_Why is everything so bright?_

Charlie woke with a groan, staring blearily at an expensive-looking lighting fixture that looked vaguely familiar. His eyes felt sore – a little more than what would usually come from a normal hangover. His head hurt and he squeezed his eyes shut, hoping for a moment’s reprieve and an idea of _where the hell he was._ He had vague recollections of Detroit’s best pizza, of expensive-tasting liquor, and of … tears?

_Damn, I hate hangovers._

Charlie sighed. He never knew for sure, but Meryl always staunchly declared Charlie as a “happy drunk no one knows what to do with.” He had to smile. Honest, upfront Meryl. Always-there Meryl. Loyal Meryl. Cheerily-opening-his-bedroom-blinds-in-the-morning-after-Team-Canton’s-Christmas-parties Meryl. Leaving-the-aspirin-by-his-bedside Meryl.

            _Meryl._

Charlie’s eyes flew open, barely flinching at the rush of light. He remembered now – every second, every word of the previous night’s debauchery. There was a secret not even Meryl knew about. Charlie got drunk, yes. Happily so, in fact. He would wake up with his blonde curls plastered in heaps on his head, his eyes blearier than usual, and his slight double chin a smidge more obvious. _But he would remember everything._ He remembered Tessa and Scott’s kiss on New Year’s Eve 2011, never mind that he had downed his joys and sorrows in an unspecified number of glasses of champagne. He remembered singing, at the lowest his voice could muster, the lyrics of ‘Music of the Night’ at Team Canton’s Christmas party in 2009 despite trying out Scott’s attempts at bartending. And he had his most secret memory – one, he was sure, he’d take to the grave – of Meryl gently running her fingers through his hair and on his cheek after all had thought he had passed out at the Fourth of July 2013 bash. It was like fire, her touch, burning him more than the vodka he downed that night.

            And now he remembered everything from the previous night. He remembered Scott’s exasperated tirades, Alex’s wise words, his confession, and the way his crossroads cleared up and fixed itself. With a shudder, he remembered how they tried to drown away their sorrows afterwards, how they had booted up Scott’s flat screen to karaoke, finding nothing good, and how he grabbed a bottle, pretended it was a microphone, and sang, in perfect French and at the top of his lungs, the lyrics in their _Notre Dame de Paris_ program music.

            _“Danse mon Esmeralda,”_ he had crooned.

            “ _Chante mon Esmeralda,_ ” Scott had continued.

            “ _Laisse-moi partir avec toi_ ”

            “ _Mourir pour toi n’est pas mourir,”_ they had ended victoriously, yelling hard to Alex’s applause.

            There was little else worth remembering from that night.

            Charlie heard another groan. It was Scott, who had sat up and was now blinking rapidly at his apartment, so cozily flooded with light from the morning sun.

            “Never again,” Scott declared.

            “I second that motion,” came Alex’s muffled voice from under the sleeping bag between the couches.

            “We’re getting _old,_ ” Charlie muttered.

            “Nah, that’s just you,” Scott murmured, flinging himself on his back and placing a wrist on his forehead. “I need an aspirin, our old tried-and-tested hangover remedy, and _exercise._ ”

            “Exercise?” Alex groaned.

            “Yes, _exercise._ I feel like I’ve been asleep for a _decade._ ”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

           

            _As soon as I became accustomed to skating with Charlie… I no longer enjoyed standing in the middle of the ice without that hand to hold on to._

            Meryl had said those words – as an interview response or as her bit for a fluff piece, she couldn’t remember – and she could never forget them. People always praised her hands. They were nimble, strong, slightly calloused but still picture-perfect, expressive, with her fingernails were always perfectly manicured. But people often failed to notice _Charlie’s_ hands, how they were so, so valuable in their career, how they were both strong and gentle and secure, how they were just _right._ They weren’t perfect. They were calloused from thousands of spills across the hard ice and mishandled grips on his blades. They looked unremarkable, with fingers that were neither short and stubby nor elongated and graceful. They betrayed her a few times, when they lost their grip and sent her tumbling down or worse, when they were wrapped around Tanith with such tenderness.

            But she meant what she said. Those hands – quite literally – supported her in the best and worst moments of her life. Despite the innumerable falls during their training sessions, she trusted them with her life like she trusted no other. She trusted them to express enough to woo their judges as they caressed her face during their programs. She loved those hands when they gave her a high-five, a fist bump, a hug that seemed to radiate from his entire being. She loved them when they smoothened out her bangs after difficult practices, when they gripped her elbows comfortingly with every fall, when they cupped her jaw to gaze at her eyes. Most of all, she loved them when they were grasped in hers, fingers intertwined, holding tight but never constricting, as they skated through hundreds of rinks and thousands of fans. _That_ was what home felt like for her – the whirr of their blades, the cold of the ice, and most essentially, Charlie’s hand in hers.

            _And now, that was gone._

            She was alone at Arctic Edge, reveling at the vastness of the rink, the picture-perfect shine on the freshly resurfaced ice. Meryl rarely ever was completely alone on the ice. Rinks were rarely ever empty, especially with Michigan being a figure skating hotspot and hockey a state sport. Earlier in their career, Meryl came early on training days and went for a few laps around the rink alone, but as soon as Charlie found out, Meryl found herself doing the laps with him, sometimes in opposite directions, more often hand-in-hand. She was rarely alone, Charlie made sure of that with his – _irrational,_ Meryl thought – fear of some mishap from her depth perception issues.

            And now she was, without Charlie’s hand. To her surprise, the rink _still_ felt like home, in some slightly modified sense. Maybe the concept of home evolved for her. Maybe it wasn’t just about people and places and comfort and love. Maybe it was the compilation of her memories.

            _But isn’t it sad,_ she thought, _to find home in your memories?_

            Meryl glided a few feet, leapt in the air in a little single jump, and hopped into a simple twizzle set. There was something vaguely comforting about being on ice once more, never mind that she was alone or that she had possibly spent more hours on rinks than at her home.

_Maybe home isn’t Charlie’s hands. Maybe it’s skating,_ she thought dully. After all, she had loved skating even before she had met Charlie. It _was_ a possibility. Seeing that Charlie seemed intent on starting the next chapter of his life, perhaps it was time for her to do so as well. They weren’t retiring, at least, not _yet._ But she had to move on somehow. She shuddered at the thought of _settling down,_ so perhaps it was time to go back to her life … pre-Charlie White. _Maybe it’s time to go home._

She closed her eyes and tried to imagine herself on ice without Charlie. She did not _enjoy_ it, yes. But she found peace there.

            _But I want Charlie more,_ she thought in anguish.

            Shaking her head and opening her eyes, she skated forward and launched herself into a double axel, felt herselffly unsupported, unwatched, and landed with a wobble.

            She giggled. This was a different realm, but that did not mean the gates were shut to her. She launched herself into another jump, then another, then another. She knew there was some danger to this, but she didn’t care. She was having _fun._

            _Maybe I can come back to singles after we retire? Maybe –_

“Didn’t know you were going into singles!”

            Meryl spun to face the door, inordinately embarrassed. She caught sight of the voluminous black hair, registered the Canadian accent, and promptly launched herself to give Tessa Virtue a hug.

            “Tessa!”

            “Meryl!”

            They giggled. It had been so long, too long, since they had been together, just the two of them. The press tried to present them as vicious friends-turned-competitors, as a friendship gone wrong after Sochi. But while they _did_ have their tense moments in the few weeks leading up to the Olympics, to say that they were completely _over_ as friends could not be farther from the truth.

            Team Canton was still a _team –_ never mind that four of them were on the verge of retirement.

            “How are you?” Tessa asked as she pulled her hair into a ponytail.

            Meryl gave her a halfhearted smile and shrugged. She looked at Tessa and hoped a glance could say so many things she wasn’t willing to vocalize.

_I still love him, Tessa. He’s getting married, Tessa. What do I do, Tessa? Should I even do anything, Tessa? Why does it feel this way, Tessa? Why?_

“Okay, I guess.”

            Tessa nodded understandingly. She _knew._ They may not see each other much, but you did not spend years and _years_ on the same rink without knowing of certain _things._

            “Twizzle?” she asked.

            Meryl gave her a broad grin. They hopped into a set of twizzles, almost perfectly in sync. In their years training together, it was an open secret how often they helped each other. Meryl spent hours coaching Tessa how to improve her twizzles – often incorporating odd words like ‘crank,’ ‘velocity,’ ‘inertia’ – while Tessa did likewise, this time with Meryl’s expressions and leg extensions. They were friends and indeed, no reality show was going to change that.

            They raced around the rink for a while, catching up, basking in each other’s presence, trying to fill the void in the conversations they’ve missed out over the season. There wasn’t anything serious. Meryl knew Tessa and Scott were trying out a relationship – they had talked this over through texts and Facebook messages and phone calls. Tessa herself knew a few things – Meryl’s declared platonic relationship with Maks, her feelings for Charlie, and the _real_ reason behind Meryl switching up Hawaii hotel switch-up, among others.

            “ – and he tells me – oh gosh this is bad – _you’re not Virtuous any-Moir!_ ” Tessa finished, almost unable to eke the words out over her giggles.

            Meryl stood stunned and suddenly doubled over laughing.

            “Tessa,” she gasped, giggling uncontrollably. “ _Stop._ ”

            Hearing the click of new sets of blades on the ice, the girls paused and looked up. Tessa and Meryl glanced at each other and promptly resumed their laughter in full force, eyes watering.

            Meryl, however, was stunned as she eyed the newcomers through her tears.

            She should have known that the ice was never truly complete without _Charlie._

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Charlie was surprised, to say the least.

            After they had dosed themselves with their version of an instant hangover remedy and made themselves fit for public – _not that polo shirt again,_ Scott had groaned as he saw Charlie exit the bathroom – they drove to Arctic Edge for a quick game of hockey. Alex took the wheel while Scott called the rink management.

            “ _What._ It’s _summer,_ Joe! Who would be on the rink? Ugh, look. Never mind, we’re coming anyway. See you,” Scott had looked frustrated as he ended his phone call. “Rink’s not empty,” Scott said, turning to Alex. “Looks like we have company – didn’t bother checking who.”

            Charlie had expected a basic skills class or some young newbie without a coach. He thought he would be sharing the rink with strangers – figure skaters who knew of Arctic Edge’s legendary rinks. He even surmised that it _might_ be Kaitlin and Jean-Luc who wished for a change in environment. Stepping in the rink with his skates – Scott had insisted on hockey with figure skating skates, because he’s never tried it – he caught a glimpse of a bright pink shirt and dark flowing hair and heard laughter he could recognize from _anywhere._

            His heart did an odd leap – it felt like it was trying to plummet and beat faster at the same time.

            Of all the things he had prepared for, seeing Meryl so soon was the last thing he expected.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

            Meryl stood awkwardly as Scott ran forward and gave Tessa a kiss. Charlie fidgeted, not meeting her eyes.

            _Something’s definitely up,_ Meryl thought, then realized that _she_ couldn’t meet his eyes either.

            “ _Alex!_ ” she yelled, catching sight of the elder Shibutani. She soon found herself enveloped in Alex’s trademark bear hug. “Where’s Maia?”

            “ _Good question,”_ Alex began. Meryl glared at him. “I don’t know, Meryl. Marina gave us a week off and the next thing I know, Maia goes out in full hiking gear with her friends. So yeah – does ‘out hiking’ work as an answer?”

            “Passably.” Meryl laughed. Sizing up her courage, she turned to Charlie and gave him a high-five.

            “Hey, Charlie. What are _you_ guys up to?”

            Charlie opened his mouth to answer, but Scott cut him off.

            “We were planning to have a game of chill hockey, you know? Like a quick boys-out kind of thing. But seeing as you ladies are here – ”

            “We’re going to be playing with you!” Tessa exclaimed.

            “What?” Meryl sputtered. “No. _Hockey?_ What?”

            Charlie laughed. “Ever articulate, _Davis._ ”

            Meryl simply glared at him.

            “That’s settled, then!” Scott declared.

            Meryl just groaned. She knew hockey – she was from _Michigan,_ after all. And she spent most of her life training with Canadians. But she never liked playing it. It was too rough and dangerous and she wasn’t even in the right skates. And with her depth perception issues, she feared whacking one of the others with the stick.

            Charlie sensed her worry and spoke up quickly. “It’s a chill hockey game. It’s not even hockey _hockey._ Don’t worry, Meryl. Just two nets, then the whole get the puck in the net kind of thing. No goaltending, even. We’re only five anyway.”

            Meryl begrudgingly agreed. Rationally, she knew it was safe, especially with her and Tessa around. Through the years, she had witnessed the boys, along with other friends they could scrounge up during shows and competitions, with their version of hockey – no rules, no positions _,_ just simple goal shooting. But they were _rough,_ full of yelled expletives in multiple languages. But with girls around, they restrained themselves somewhat.

            “ _Ah,_ it’s like football on ice!” Anna Cappellini had once exclaimed, after watching a few minutes of the boys’ rough game a few years back. “Look, even down to the fake fouls!” Meryl had agreed and promptly went back to her reading.

            In her mind, however, Meryl knew that the reason _she_ would be safe was because Charlie was there. It was irrational, she knew, but years of experience told her that Charlie protected her, physically lifting her out of harm’s way with every dangerous free skate practice during group warm-ups.

            She sighed and took the proffered hockey stick from Charlie. Alex rushed over the sound booth to plug in his iPod, blasting music throughout the rink.

            Charlie, Meryl, and Alex were first on one team – _Team USA!_ Alex had yelled – and Tessa and Scott in the other. After being beaten soundly, Scott demanded a switch-up.

            “ _Unfair! You’re actually good at this, Meryl!”_ he had grumbled. By the time they skated over to the boards a little over an hour later, they had tried out every possible combination among themselves. They were exhausted, slightly bruised, and their skates had received quite a beating. But they were laughing, flushed red, and undeniably happy.

            “So,” Scott began in between laughs. “Who won again?”

            Meryl saw Charlie flip him off, his sparse curls shaking with his laughter. They slowly sipped at their water in silence. Meryl was just so utterly content to sit there with her best friends, with no competition looming, no long-term goals to worry about, no drama to angst about. Alex’s music was still blasting over the speakers and she saw Alex bopping his head along, sweat glistening on his forehead. Tessa and Scott were holding hands. Charlie was smiling and … _staring at her?_

_What?_

            Before she could quell her own racing mind, the music suddenly switched to a pop-alternative rock love song. Meryl knew the tune instantly.

           “Oh no,” Alex groaned. “Wait, I’ll go fix it.” He skated out, leaving Meryl laughing and Charlie looking bemused.

           Tessa, however, was singing along.

_“People say goodbye, in their own special way.”_ Scott looked at her strangely, and then grasped her hand. They shared a glance and skated back to the center of the rink, adopting a dance hold, and they swayed to the music.

           Meryl had to smile. Tessa and Scott were simply gazing at each other, ignoring the stark white light of the rink and the hockey sticks piled haphazardly near them. It was as if they were teenagers slow dancing at a prom, without a care in the world.

           Meryl caught Charlie staring at her strangely again. She looked at him defensively.

            “It’s ‘In My Veins’ by Andrew Belle. You know, from Castle? Maia must’ve accidentally synced it on Alex’s iPod, I don’t know – ”

            She was cut off by Charlie’s hand, held out next to hers.

            “Dance with me?”

            Meryl could feel her heart fluttering, butterflies racing in her stomach, her mind short-circuiting over.

            _What? Dance… with him? What? To_ this _song? Charlie what?_

She could have laughed his hand away. She could have scoffed, brushed it aside, and continued watching Tessa and Scott. She could have pretended not to hear him.

            But she did not.

            Like she did a million times over the past seventeen years, she gave him a smile, took his hand, and skated with him.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

            Charlie had no idea why he did what he did.

            He _knew_ the song. He had caught Tanith and later, Meryl, squealing at the end of that episode in Castle where incidentally, Castle and Beckett were slow dancing. It was a sweet song – real and tender and somehow so utterly _apt_ for them at that moment. Tessa and Scott were gazing at each other like they each hung the moon and Charlie was happy for them, he really was. But he couldn’t help the little bite of envy that his friends were so completely happy where they belonged, so absolutely without a trace of uncertainty. He _wanted_ to be guiltlessly happy, even for the space of a song. And his happiness was right next to him, watching Tessa and Scott with a contented, wistful smile on her face.

            _Just this once,_ he thought, choking back the realization that this was possibly their last chance to dance together as _them,_ not as Scheherazade and the king, not as Quasimodo and Esmeralda, not as Samson and Delilah. This was their last chance to dance before he became a married man.

            So he extended her hand and felt his soul fall into place as she smiled at him and took his hand.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

            _Nothing could feel more right,_ Meryl thought.

            She was in her skates, the ice was just right, ‘In My Veins’ was playing, and she was in Charlie’s arms. Their eyes met. She feared for a second that all would turn awkward and he would look away and drift away and regret everything. But they didn’t. Their gazes locked and they resumed swaying to the music, fingers intertwined, arms around each other.

            The last time they danced like this was during the Sochi Olympic Gala. Back then, the rehearsals demanded “connection, connection!” But this time, it was just them as _themselves._ It felt like a high school prom, indeed.

            _Or the couple’s first dance at a wedding reception_ , came the unbidden thought.

            Meryl realized with a pang that this was possibly her last chance to be in Charlie’s arms like this, before he became a married man and lost to her forever. Her sense of self-preservation screamed at her to stop, that there was no use giving herself a taste of what she could never completely have. But she was in Charlie’s arms, slow dancing to her favorite song in her favorite rink and everything felt so _right._ She was sweaty from their hockey match, her hair was in a mess, but she couldn’t, for the life of her, pull away from something she yearned for in the nights she stayed awake and stared at the ceiling and wished and hoped and dreamed.

            _Just this once,_ she thought, _just this very once._

            She could see, from the corner of her eye, Tessa and Scott looking at them. Scott had a smug smile on her face while Tessa looked close to tears in happiness. Meryl had to smile herself. Perhaps she had fallen slowly, over the course of eighteen years. Perhaps it was a long, slow fall that never seemed to end. But now it was crashing in waves, the enormous ocean of complete _love_ for Charlie. This moment was for _her._ Closing her eyes, she leaned her head on his chest.

            She was too far gone, anyway.

            There was no looking back.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

            _This must be what happiness is,_ Charlie thought.

            He was in his skates, he had played hockey with his very best friends, a good song was playing, and Meryl was in his arms. Their eyes met. He couldn’t turn away.

            Those were the wide-set eyes that knew him most. Those were the eyes that comforted and cheered him without words, that spoke _epics_ in their silence. Those were the eyes that glimmered with joy and laughter. Those were the eyes that haunted him in his dreams.

            _This feels like a couple’s first dance at a wedding reception_ , came the unbidden thought.

            It occurred to him that he couldn’t imagine his wedding reception any other way. _How slow had it taken him to fall_ , he berated himself _, that it was too late now?_

            But he knew he was wrong – he had fallen a long time ago, but kept it locked and hidden out of sight and out of mind. He fell slowly, but hard. And now, with her in his arms, eyes locked on him, he realized that there was no looking back.

            There was Tanith to think about. There was his impending wedding, his promises and commitments, his honor as a respectable man.

            But then there was _this._

            _Just this once,_ he thought, _just this very once._

            This was what happiness and _completeness_ felt like, and there was no way he was walking away from it. Even if he had to crawl to the past, work his way through the intricacies of commitments and history and uncertain futures, and take a gigantic leap into the unknown. He was not going to lose _this._

            Meryl moved closer and leaned her head in, tucking it in the crook of his neck.

            Charlie closed his eyes, breathed her in, and knew at once that he had found home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the fluff (I enjoyed writing it)! Sometimes I try to vicariously live my own love life through my characters and the last scene is just the moment I want to have in my life someday, somehow (although not on ice, I think I'd trip)
> 
> Do leave your comments! Or if AO3 comments aren't your thing, go ahead and pop by my tumblr (infinitelyquintessential) and leave me a message! I love receiving messages - they always, always, always make my day.


	6. Erase me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What has to be done, has to be done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize to those who've been waiting for the next chapter! It's been on hold for the last five weeks because of school and personal issues. This one's short, but it gets a lot out of the way.

_Moods that take me and erase me_

_And I'm painted black_

           

Charlie made a _choice._ And it killed him, it _really_ did, that it was a choice between two _women._

            _But it isn’t,_ he thought, _not really._

            “I’m not choosing between Meryl and Tanith,” he said, sitting across his mother, Charlotte, and his eldest sister Catherine in the breakfast nook at the White residence.

            “But it looks like you are.” Catherine said sternly, but not unkindly.

            “No, don’t you see, Cath? I haven’t even _told_ Meryl I really, you know, _love_ her. So what if she doesn’t? I’m still breaking things off with Tanith.”

            “Yes, but you’re doing it because you _love_ Meryl. Aren’t you kind of going for an ‘Meryl or nothing’ route, Charlie?”

            “I’m not marrying Tanith because _you can’t marry someone you’re not in love with._ You _know_ that.”

            Catherine shook her head. “Charlie, did you _just_ quote _The Sound of Music_? But you’re in love with Tanith, you _know_ that.”

            Charlie gave an odd, sad smile. “The thing is, Catherine, I’m dead sure I’m not. Not anymore, anyway. It’s just that, whenever I’m with Meryl, I _know_ I love her with every part of myself. And I haven’t felt that way with Tanith, not in a long time.”

            He paused. He could feel the _waves_ of disapproval from Catherine. Charlotte, oddly enough, sat there silently, an unreadable expression on her face.

            “You see,” he continued, “I always thought it was a choice between taking a chance with Meryl or sticking with Tanith. But I don’t think it’s that way. I’m breaking things off with Tanith because if there’s so much _doubt_ right now, how am I supposed to face things twenty years down the line? I’m breaking things off with her _because I don’t want to be her husband and I don’t want her to be my wife.”_

            “Really?” Charlotte asked skeptically. Charlie turned at her in surprise. “Where _this_ come from, Charlie? Like three weeks ago, you said ‘there isn’t any time.’ And now, you’re like this?”

            Charlie opened his mouth to answer, but Charlotte cut him off.

            “Look at it this way, if Meryl _will not_ want to be with you, will you still break up with Tanith?”

            At once, Charlie felt his mother and Catherine look at him intently.

            “Yes,” he said, with his entire being. “ _Yes,_ I would.”

            “That settles it, then,” Jacqui said quietly.

            “ _God,_ ” Catherine breathed.

            _I know, I know,_ Charlie thought, his entire being mired in guilt, yet a great part of him infinitely relieved.

            “Hey, it’s not as if you’ve never known anyone who’s left a man at the altar, Catherine!” Charlotte said lightly.

            Catherine visibly shuddered. “I _know,_ Char! She’s guilty about it every _single_ day – ”

            “ – what part of it are she guilty about?” Charlie cut her off, curious. It was an episode no one ever really mentioned, never mind it being more than a decade ago. Catherine’s closest friend, Anna – she was practically family – had called her wedding off a few weeks before the big day – on the pre-wedding vacation trip, no less. The families were indescribably embarrassed, of course, but the would-have-been groom told them, with a wistful smile, “ _Better three weeks before than three weeks after.”_

            “She always says, ‘the part where I didn’t decide sooner,’” Catherine said.

            “ _Exactly,_ ” Charlie said.

            “I think you should give it some time,” Jacqui spoke up, staring directly at Charlie. “You don’t want to regret anything, Charlie.”

            Charlie was doubtful. Wasn’t seventeen years – or _five_ years – enough time?

But his mother was sincere and well meaning. And he knew that Jacqui _loved_ Meryl like she loved her own daughters. It was something Tanith – no matter how close she became to his sisters over the years – never understood or achieved. Charlie’s mother loved Tanith, but not in the way she loved Meryl, with her constant text messages, homemade holiday gifts, and active campaigning on all her social media accounts during their Dancing with the Stars stint.

Jacqui, Charlie knew, would be overjoyed to find Charlie and Meryl together after so many years. But she was right, he – _they –_ needed time.

But he couldn’t give it _too much_ time, not with an impending wedding.

He had told Charlotte that there he did not have any time left. He was wrong, but not by far. He still _had_ time, but barely.

“Okay,” he said, assuring his mother with a smile.

His mother smiled back and mussed up his hair affectionately. 

“You’ve got my support, Charlie. Whatever you choose.”

Charlotte and Catherine rolled their eyes simultaneously.

“You are _so_ screwed, Charlie,” Charlotte muttered.

Charlie couldn’t help but grin. He couldn’t _disagree_ with his sisters. But it just felt so ironic, so utterly convoluted, and yet twistedly _apt_ that after a year of success and joy and lifelong dreams fulfilled, he was now off to commit what was undoubtedly one of the most heinous _crimes_ a lover could commit. He was swimming in guilt, but that thought that was _fixing_ something was enough.

* * *

 

 _“_ You _have_ to tell him,” Maia Shibutani whined.

Meryl raised a perfectly-groomed eyebrow at her. Maia uncharacteristically sounded like a petulant child and if the subject wasn’t about certain long-harbored feelings of love and wanting, Meryl would’ve laughed.

            “ _Maia – ”_

“Don’t ‘Maia’ me!” Maia exclaimed. “I come here for a little nice shopping trip with you and I don’t know, some Starbucks and some ranting. And here you go confirming what we’ve _all known_ for so long! You _love_ Charlie. And we’re pretty certain he loves you too. _Everyone_ wants you both to be happy so why don’t you put on your _crushing-the-patriarchy_ heels and tell hi – ”

            “ _– Because I’m not ruining my best friend’s wedding!”_

            Maia fell silent. She fiddled with the straw of her drink, seemingly deep in thought.

            Meryl sighed. It must be so easy, she thought, to have the idealism of a teenager. The world seemed to have an endless supply of workable options. Relationships could be begun and ended and classified. And there was that undeniable certainty that _there was still time._ Few things in adolescence were ‘for life,’ not like the harder decisions – marriage, commitment, _retirement._

            “He’s happy,” Meryl said quietly. “I’m not going to get in the way of that. This is a big moment in his life. And like I was for most of our lives, I’m going to be there and support him through it.”

            “But Meryl, I think he _deserves_ to know how you feel about him. I don’t you – or him – would want to go through the rest of your lives side-by-side without _knowing._ ”

            “What’s the point of him knowing? There’s just going to be that big _what-could’ve-been_ and I’m not going to make us live through that.”

            “Meryl, you’re already living through the biggest _what-could’ve-been_ I’ve ever seen in my life _. If_ you tell him, though, there’s a chance that _that_ what-could’ve-been would be a _what is._ ”

            _And they have such wonderful impossible ideas and it’s so hard to resist,_ Meryl thought wryly.

            “They’re not yet married, Meryl. They don’t even have a set date,” Maia continued. “There’s still time, Meryl. Can’t you see that?”

            Meryl saw it, she really did. But she was terrified of changing things, of ruining what they already had. The risks were too great – what if Charlie refused to look her in the eye after her heartfelt admission? She couldn’t possibly live with _that._ Perhaps that was the crux of her perfect, fairytale-like life. Perhaps that by living the rest of her life wondering and wanting, she would be complying with the universal law of justice and fairness. Who gets to permanently make their mark in an athletic discipline’s history so many times over _and_ get the love story to put all other love stories to shame, after all? Maybe it was only right.

            _And besides,_ she thought, _I can grow to love another. Like I did with Charlie._

            She smiled wistfully at Maia. There was the pricking feeling behind her eyes, the unwanted sensation of tears threatening to spill over. _And I’d be damned if I’d cry again in this same frickin mall._

            “It’s okay Maia. There isn’t any left. But _it’s okay._ ”

            It wasn’t, Meryl knew. But it would have to be.

* * *

 

            There was something _horrible,_ Charlie thought,about the clink of utensils on china at a silent dining table. Tanith was across him, soundlessly slicing up her chicken and shooting a few odd glances every now and then.

            _Clink._ Tanith set her fork down and reached for her wine glass.

            Charlie couldn’t stand it. It had been more than a few weeks since his conversation with his mother and sisters. He had made his choice (“ _I think you long have, Charlie_ ,” Scott Moir had said with a wry smirk.) and he knew that he had to do what he had to do. _Soon._

            “Char – ”

            Charlie choked down his qualms.

            “Tanith,” he began. “There is something I must do.”

            And so he told her everything. It took every ounce of skill and every inch of his self-respect and every bit of love he had for Tanith to look her in the eyes. He wasn’t a coward and Tanith deserved a proper explanation. He told her how much the five years with her meant to him, how none of it was a lie, how much he _loved_ her. He told her how much their relationship made him grow and how he became better because of it.

            But he told her, too, that that was _it._

            That maybe, for all the ways Tanith made him feel alive in the last five years, there stood the fact that he _couldn’t_ see the rest of his life with her (there was someone else, but that wasn’t the only reason). He made it clear that he wasn’t letting her go because of another woman, he was letting her go because he knew they were not right, that she didn’t fit the spaces of his heart so well anymore, like a round peg in a square hole, like a skate’s laces unevenly tied.

            It broke his heart, it really did, to see her shift her eyes downward, then stare up at him defiantly. She was nodding, smiling at him a little unevenly. There was a valiant set to her jaw, her fingers fiddling with each other. When Charlie paused, Tanith gave a little heartbroken “ _why?_ ” that shattered his heart. But he had started and he would finish. As Charlie wound up his little speech, Tanith gave a little sniffle.

            Charlie felt that it was an undeserved mercy, how Tanith took it in all so calmly, how there were no fireworks, no pleas for reconsideration, no shrieks of fury. This was Tanith at her best –refined, put-together, impeccable, and unbelievably strong.

            After five years, Charlie knew that all the women in his life had different ways of expressing boundless reserves of strength and Tanith was no exception.

            Here sat a person, in a house she had bought with her boyfriend of five years, who fifteen minutes ago had the vast expanse of a happy future in store, who was now being told that it wasn’t to be, after all.

            Charlie could only wonder how it was so. And just as it had been in many moments in his life, he knew Meryl, his standard of propriety and perfection, would have been appalled, disgusted, and unbelievably _furious_ at his deed.

            Tanith dabbed at her tears.

            “It’s okay, Charlie.”

            It was, by far, the saddest _okay_ Charlie received in his life. But Tanith gave him a watery smile.

            “ _I forgive you._ And maybe it’s for the best.”

            Her quiet absolution was worse than the thousand scenarios of smashing plates and furious sobs he had imagined.

            Tanith looked at him steadily. A tear slid down her tanned cheek. And all at once, her face crumpled.

            In an achingly familiar way and in poignant imitation of happier times, Charlie stepped forward and, gathering her in his arms, tucked Tanith’s face in the crook of his neck. Tanith was sobbing in earnest now. Charlie could feel her fingers clenching and unclenching, as if resisting the urge to push him away.

            They stood that way for quite a while, a pair of souls who, less than an hour earlier, was set to be together for life. But things were never that easy and there were inescapable things to contend with.

            There were oceans of guilt crashing on Charlie as he stroked Tanith’s hair, trying to calm her tears. Deep down, there was the tendril of relief and _rightness_ and hope that maybe, _maybe,_ he was doing the right thing.

            But with an armful of a weeping ex-fiancé whose heart he had just broken, it was incredibly difficult for him to see _how._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I'm hoping to hear some feedback! It'll greatly help, especially as I'm in a bit of a rut on how to move on to the next chapter. If it's your sort of thing, shoot me a fanmail/ask at infinitelyquintessential on tumblr! <3


	7. time that you've won

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because there are always wars to be won.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the wait for this chapter! It's pretty lengthy - hope you enjoy!

_You have suffered enough_

_And warred with yourself_

_It's time that you won_

It was hard not to know about Charlie and Tanith’s breakup. There was no official announcement – _yet_ – and neither had told Meryl anything, but everyone just _knew._ Perhaps it was because Tanith’s car had left their home and hadn’t returned in two weeks. Perhaps it was because those who came over to the Whites’ residence found the den suddenly devoid of any evidence that a wedding was once planned there. Perhaps it was because the White sisters acted differently – as if a certain tension and uncertainty reigned in the air. And, of course, people saw that Charlie and Tanith, the ex-couple, acted differently themselves. There were no more sightings of the two walking hand-in-hand in the park. DJ the dog no longer accompanied Tanith in her morning jogs, and Charlie strolled through his favorite parks and shopping centers with his friends, his mother, Meryl herself, but never Tanith. The few Detroit wedding venues Tanith had carefully marked out and called up found themselves one potential client less. In Vera Wang’s offices, the staff found the records for the Belbin-White entourage quietly withdrawn.

            It was as if no highly publicized engagement ever happened and Meryl was so unnerved at how subtle the whole affair became.

            She was unnerved, too, at how she, Charlie White’s female best friend and partner of almost eighteen years, was as much in the dark as everyone else. Sometimes, she felt that she was even _more_ in the dark than others were.

            “So, you crank your foot, get a solid inside edge, then up again!” Meryl was coaching Kaitlin Hawayek, who was visiting Canton with Jean-Luc for a week for a “mentorship exposure trip” under Meryl and Charlie’s guidance. In reality, however, Kaitlin and Jean-Luc were enjoying a break from their demanding training schedule. Being Junior World champions came at no small price and they now felt the pressure as the sport’s exalted future. Meryl and Charlie were more than willing to indulge them with this, keeping their casual training sessions to troubleshooting and specific elements and skills, with tips and tricks that could only come from the United States’ only World and Olympic champions in ice dance.

            “ _Blegh,_ I don’t know how Jean-Luc does them so _fast_ ,” Kaitlin muttered after a twizzle set with Meryl. She cast a quick glance towards the opposite end of the rink where Charlie was sending Jean-Luc through drills with turn out positions and arabesques.

            “Meryl?”

            “Hmm?”

            “Did you hear about Tanith and Charlie’s breakup?”

            Meryl sighed inwardly. It wasn’t the first time she’s been asked over the last few weeks. She couldn’t even remember how she first caught wind of the news.

            _Rumor,_ Meryl thought sagely and sardonically, _it flies so fast._

            Seeing that Kaitlin was still staring at her expectantly, she gave a noncommittal sound of affirmation.

            Kaitlin went on. “Is it true?”

            It was another common question. Everyone seemed to think she _knew_ about it. And she did. A few days after the rumor started spreading, she received a text message from Charlotte.

            All it read was “ **it’s true**.” Meryl knew what it was about instantly. She had mulled over an ideal response until Charlotte, in her infinite perception, texted again. “ **no word to media, ok? :-)”** Meryl had grinned in relief. Charlotte knew that Meryl would be the last person to divulge personal details to the media. Her reminder was just her way of saying “ _it’s okay, Meryl, I know you don’t know what to say, you don’t have to say anything.”_

            Kaitlin gave a grunt of impatience. Meryl was stalling again.

            “I don’t know, Kaitlin.”

            “ _Awww, man!_ But you’re his _partner,_ shouldn’t you, like, _know_?”

            Meryl could, at least, be honest with this one.

            “Well, Charlie hasn’t told me anything, Kaitlin.”

            It was odd, really, how Charlie has been silent about this. This was the guy who, after all, came to her for little problems like their local mall’s Ralph Lauren running out of polo shirts ( _Thank god,_ Meryl had muttered) and DJ chewing on his favorite shoes. He also came to her for big problems like his academic insecurities, the early snags in his relationship with Tanith ( _oh god, why me?_ Meryl had silently lamented), and the little disagreements he had with his mother. Meryl was _just_ unbelievably confused at Charlie’s silence about such a huge development in his life.

            She wasn’t hurt about his silence. Truth be told, she was relieved that Charlie wasn’t opening up about it. As horrible and sympathetic as she felt for them, she had no idea how someone who had long harbored a secret crush for her best friend was supposed to react at the dissolution of the said best friend’s engagement.

            “It’s just so weird,” Kaitlin said conspiratorially. “Like they’re together-together one day and they’re about to spend their lives together and one day, they’re _not_? Like, who broke it off? Or did they just wake up one day and think, ‘hey, nope, this isn’t happening’? I mean, with the way they’ve been together recently, you’d expect that they’d be _together forever_ and now, they’re not?”

            “I know, right!” Meryl blurted out before catching herself. She agreed with everything Kaitlin said. Shock was her first genuine reaction after hearing of the rumor. It wasn’t a positive or negative kind of shock, but just plain, neutral, unadulterated shock at having something established and set in stone ended so abruptly. She couldn’t be angry or appalled – what if it had been a mutual decision? Who was she to judge that? But she was definitely sorry for both of them. And perhaps, if she was completely honest with herself, there was an odd tendril of relief at the news, a sentiment she quickly squashed and smothered with guilt.

            “I mean,” she corrected herself, noting Kaitlin’s surprise at her enthusiasm, “I don’t think Charlie’s been a relationship with anyone for this long.”

            _There,_ she thought, _perfectly neutral._

            Kaitlin raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “Yes, he has. With _you_.”

            Meryl was taken aback – she never got used to people commenting on their “special bond,” their “lifelong partnership,” their misconstrued relationship. It was always part of them, never acknowledged, and as Charlie told the media, totally “unsaid.” They were both grateful for it, but it wasn’t something they talked about over movie nights and lunch trips. It was as close as everyone assumed and they have had more than their fair share of relationship rumors, but Meryl could never react with complete nonchalance at every new insinuation.

            She gave Kaitlin a disapproving glare. “We were never _toge – ”_

            “ – I _know,”_ Kaitlin cut her off, “I’ve watched all your interviews. _Come on._ Trust me, I know. But I don’t know. With you both, it’s just so _different._ You’ve been together for … longer than I’ve been alive.”

            Kaitlin paused, a look of fascinated horror dawning on her face.

            “ _Longer than I’ve been alive._ Damn, that’s long,” she shook herself, and continued. “I can’t imagine being with someone for seventeen years, day in and day out, and you guys still hang out outside your training hours, I mean _come on._ Jean-Luc and I say goodbye at the end of the day and that’s it. But you two, nope. It’s not even just your programs, it’s in your interviews, your sponsor assignments, the way you two interact everyday.”

            Meryl fidgeted. She’s heard this speech before, _somewhere._

“I love Tanith,” Kaitlin said with a grin. She turned serious. “But I ship Davis and White.”

            “ _Ship_?”

            “Oh, you know what I mean. But you see, Meryl, whether or not you get together, you have this weird connection that isn’t like a family connection. And it’s definitely a _relationship._ I’m not sure what you’d call it but seriously – you are the girl Charlie White has had the longest _relationship_ with, let’s be real. I mean, if you call it a friendship, then congrats, you’ve set the golden standard of friendship for the universe! May all friendships be like yours and the world will just be like, amazing!”

            Meryl had to laugh. As she had noted with Maia a few weeks ago, teenagers were just so _idealistic._

            But idealistic or not, Kaitlin was completely and unequivocally _right._

            They looked at Charlie and Jean-Luc across the rink. The boys were laughing as they gripped hands, feet in arabesque position, and sped across the ice.

            Meryl had to smile. She may harbor terrifyingly real feelings for Charlie but she was his friend first.

            And friends had real responsibilities to fulfill.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

            Charlie was, as his mother blithely put, _moping._

He was lounging on the couch, knackered from a day spent teaching Jean-Luc how to be expressive even through a split rotational lift. The gigantic television in his parents’ den was set on National Geographic and Charlie was staring blankly without watching.

            It has been three and a half weeks since his breakup and he was still despondent. He was _fine,_ he told everyone. And he wasn’t lying. Half of his day was spent at the rink, mentoring the Shibutanis, Jean-Luc, and Kaitlin. He often went for jogs with DJ, trying to lose the poundage he gained in the months after his engagement. He took a stab at returning to his studies and renovating his home – now practically a bachelor’s pad, although his mother gave him a stern look when he mentioned it ( _“You’re too young to be a bachelor, Charlie_ ”). He met Meryl everyday – there was the whole mentorship thing with Jean-Luc and Kaitlin and Meryl often helped mentor the Shibutanis. He often ran into her as he jogged in the morning and Meryl would join him after a brief chat and swayed him into having breakfast with her at nearby cafés.

            He hadn’t told Meryl about the breakup. It felt spectacularly wrong, but he _couldn’t._ He couldn’t face her disappointment at him ending a perfectly working five-year relationship. And after the closeness they enjoyed over the few weeks leading up to their breakup – he could never forget the look of joy when they slow-danced in the rink, a joy he knew simply reflected his – he knew that Meryl’s overthinking tendencies would heap the blame on herself. After all, he _did_ a lot of the last five years pretending, on ice, that they loved each other. The multiple dating rumors they faced couldn’t have helped his relationship with Tanith, either, and neither did their closeness in even the most casual of interviews. There was also Meryl’s uncanny ability to let him spill his guts and reveal truths even _he_ did not realize. She would know about her role in his realization – she would know how deeply he _did_ feel for her, and he couldn’t deal with that, not right now.

            Telling Meryl now was not an option. She _had_ to know – practically everyone did and he could see how she shot him many concerned glances on the rink – but he couldn’t face her, not yet.

            So all in all, he was _fine._ He had a life even after the breakup, defying his earlier fears. There was an elephant in the room every time he was with Meryl and everyone seemed so concerned but he was fine during the day, he really was.

            It was the after hours that haunted him. His after hours – after rink practice, after games of pick me up hockey, after dinner get-togethers – were now spent alone, after so long with Tanith or his roommates. It was different from the times Tanith would be away for vacation or work. This time, there was barely anything to look forward to, only hours of contemplation and _guilt._ Tanith was okay, he knew. Her social media presence betrayed no sign of any personal crisis. Talks with NBC Sports were ongoing and progressing and he knew Tanith was on the brink of full tenure. He was proud of her, he really was. He was so incredibly relieved that things were going swimmingly for her, that nothing he did or didn’t do ruined her.

            But things weren’t going swimmingly for _him_ and there he was, a lump of inactivity in his parents’ couch, blankly watching a documentary on _penguins._

            His mother walked in the den.

            “Are you really watching this?” she groaned.

            Charlie made a noncommittal noise of indifference.

            Sighing, Jacqui flipped the channel randomly. It landed on the feed of Charlotte’s Dancing with the Stars marathon from – _had it really been more than a month?_ Charlie thought in shock.

            “Oh,” Jacqui said worriedly, moving to change the channel.

            “No,” Charlie said suddenly. “It’s alright.”

            Jacqui sighed and sat next to her son. The television was on a neutral, safe scene – Danica’s rehearsal video in week 3 – and Charlie continued to stare blankly, trying not to think of how he dedicated his best year to his family and _Tanith._

            His mother, seemingly reading his mind, said tentatively. “Never knew – why didn’t you mention Meryl at all in this again?”

            Charlie groaned. “Not now, mom.”

            They lapsed into uncomfortable silence.

            “Charlie,” Jacqui began. _Here it goes,_ Charlie thought.

            “Charlie, I know you’ve come from rink practice and all and I know that you’re just tired and you’re just lounging there _because_ you’re tired. But you can’t mope around like this. I’m worried about you.”

            Charlie opened his mouth to reply, but Jacqui cut him off.

            “Look, you’re in your mid-twenties. I wouldn’t want to give you relationship advice because this is something you could figure out for _yourself._ You have enough experience and really, only you can tell yourself what to do. I’ve been there for most of your life and I’ve been to every competition and I’ve been there for the first time you won and the first time you lost but Charlie, this is you now.”

            With a sigh, Charlie turned to his mother. “I know, mom.”

            “Remember what I used to tell you when you were much younger?”

            “You told me a lot of things,” Charlie said with a chuckle.

            “Point taken,” Jacqui smiled. “I used to tell you that when you compete, compete against yourself. Not against other people – but against yourself, your past difficulties, your past accomplishments, everything you went through to get where you are. Of course, that didn’t work later on when you went big-time. But I think it works _now._

            Charlie, you’ve been so conflicted. I know you – you’re guilty you’ve decided to break things off with Tanith. You think your punishment is to sit and be guilty all day. And maybe inside, you’re just warring with yourself between being happy and being guilty because of what you’ve done. I think you need to stop, Charlie.”

            “I _broke up with her,_ ” Charlie said in anguish. “After five years and her waiting in the sidelines and five years of having her watch me be in love with Meryl on ice. How … how much more of a douchebag can anyone be?”

            Jacqui gave a half-second glare of disapproval at his language then sighed.

            “I knew this was coming. You’ve always had a guilt complex going on. But Charlie, I don’t think she ever ‘waited in the sidelines.’ She’s as independent as anyone can be. You did not force her to stay with you or force her to love you. You both _loved_ each other. And from what you tell me and from what I see, she’s been taking your breakup well. Sometimes, there really are relationships that aren’t meant to work out. You couldn’t imagine yourself with her, right? And for _whatever_ reason, that’s okay. It sucks, Charlie, I know. But you’ve made your choice.”

            “But is it the right choice?” Charlie said half-heartedly.

            Jacqui raised an eyebrow at him.

            Charlie sighed. “I _know_ it’s the right choice. I _feel_ it’s the right choice. Like, every fiber of me deep, deep down is sort of relieved I’ve done it. But it doesn’t change how I’ve broken her heart.”

            Jacqui pursed her lips. She ran her hand through Charlie’s – _thankfully growing_ – curls.

            “You can’t change that. But maybe you can accept that. But look at her, is she any less of a person now? Definitely not. Has she despised you since? I don’t think ‘you’ll always mean a lot to me’ is particularly hateful, don’t you think? She’s okay, Charlie. She’s getting there.

            And you have to get there too. You’ve warred with yourself so much. And maybe it’s time that you stopped.”

            Charlie got it now, he really did. Maybe the crux of his guilt lay in what it took to make him realize what he had to do. That it took a number of moments with Meryl to make him realize that what he had with Tanith couldn’t last.

            But it was no excuse for his wallowing.

            “It’s time that you’ve won, Charlie.”

            He stared straight ahead at the television screen and watched Meryl dance her heart and soul out to their seventeen years of partnership. It made him guilty then, to have excluded her in his dedication. He thought their love and appreciation were always understood, always unsaid – as he so insistently declared on Good Morning America the morning after he was booted out. And his relationship with Tanith had been so secret, so under wraps, that he felt that she deserved to be told on national television how much he loved her.

            Things were always rather messed up. He had messed up _so_ many times. But maybe his mother was right – it was time to forgive himself.

           He felt the prick of tears in his eyes.

            “Okay,” he whispered, before being enveloped in his mother’s embrace.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

           Meryl was worried.

           They had a number of shows coming up and because of their mentorship and sponsorship duties – and a number of personal concessions – they hadn’t trained their programs in a number of weeks. To be fair, they’ve trained _Scheherazade_ extensively for a year. It wouldn’t be the Olympic-winning program if it wasn’t for the innumerable months and thousands of hours they’ve given up for it. And the Rachmaninoff program was, truth be told, their favorite moves put together with additional arabesques and chock filled with tenderness. But they were leaving for Sun Valley in three weeks and it felt wrong to go without at least a week or so of practice. They _were_ being paid for this, after all.

           And Meryl was worried, too, about _Charlie._

            It was the greater of her two worries. After all, they’ve practiced their watered-down programs so many times over the last few months and there was never, _never_ any mishap during the performances themselves. And while she has known Charlie for more than seventeen years and the programs for less than one, Charlie was, well, _Charlie._ He was worth more than all their programs and medals and titles put together and she sometimes felt he didn’t know that well enough. And now, at what she knew was a confusing and trying time for him, she knew he needed to know _that._

           Before she could do so much as type a message away, her phone beeped.

            CHARLIE WHITE: **sun valley in two weeks, right? we need to practice!**

            Meryl had to smile. Fiancée issues and months away from daily training for their competitions, and Charlie could still read her mind from miles away. Her phone beeped again.

            CHARLIE WHITE: **tell you what, why don’t we practice in front of kaitlin/jean-luc? it’ll be like a demo. hit 2 birds with 1 stone, yes?**

            Meryl couldn’t stop grinning.

            MERYL DAVIS: **Yes. See you later!**

CHARLIE WHITE: :--)

 

 

 

 

            Katilin and Jean-Luc were, to put it mildly, ecstatic. Charlie had tried putting a bit of seriousness back (“ _Remember, you have to observe!_ ”) but they were having none of it (“ _This is like, the best last-day lesson!_ ”). Meryl only gave them a smile, told them to stand nearby, and took her position.

            The opening notes of _Scheherazade_ rang out. Everyone in the rink paused to stare.

            They began.

            Meryl was in her element – this _was,_ no doubt, their obvious favorite program of all time. How can it not be?

            The crowd-stunning first lift was coming up and, as always, Meryl relished the half-second in which she just _flew,_ held down only by Charlie’s ironclad grip. It was one of their most dangerous lift entrances and it had taken them years to perfect. And she knew that they were going to land this one.

            They did, and even if she crashed, rather than set herself firmly, on Charlie’s back, she was still surprised that the lift still worked after all those weeks. Charlie set her down.

            “So, this wasn’t a good landing. But you barely notice anything, right? That’s because – and we really emphasize this – you really have to _feel_ for your partner. Where she is at every moment. So you can fix your mistakes before anyone notices them.”

            Kaitlin was still gaping at them, still stunned at the intricacy of the lift up-close.

            Jean-Luc was staring in genuine puzzlement. “Where’s the mistake?”

            Charlie and Meryl glanced at each other and burst out laughing.

            “We rock, Meryl.”

            “Yes, we do, Charlie.”

            Charlie turned to Jean-Luc. “We’ll do it again, maybe you’ll see where the mistake was.”

            Meryl couldn’t help herself. “Your faces,” she said between giggles, “ _priceless._ ”

            The music started playing again. Charlie had her in a grip for the pull-through lift already but Meryl knew, in a frighteningly clear second, that they were going to muck this one.

            Charlie swung her in the air, but the force hurled her from his grasp and set her flying. She scrambled to her knees at once and seeing their faces – Charlie horrified and appalled, Jean-Luc and Kaitlin disbelieving – she couldn’t help herself. She started giggling again.

            Coming to his senses, Charlie skated over and knelt next to her.

            “Are you okay?”

            Meryl was giggling too hard. “ _Look – at – their –faces!_ God, Charlie.”

            Seeing that Meryl was obviously none the worse for wear, he looked up. Jean-Luc and Kaitlin were still frozen in shock, their mouths agape. It was a sight to behold – the exuberant World Junior Champions, their faces inelegantly contorted in shock.

            He started laughing as well.

             It was a secret she harbored for quite a while, how Charlie’s laughter was one of her favorite sounds in the world. And it has been so long – _too_ long – since she heard it in all its genuine glory.

            “Well,” Charlie said, guffawing, “I did tell them to see what the mistake _was._ ”

            “And there you have it!”

            Charlie smiled. “There you have it.”

            He helped her up. “Are you sure you’re alright? I had no _idea_ what happened. I’m so sor – ”

            “ – kneepads, Charlie,” she cut him off gently, not wanting his guilt trip to last a second longer. “Always great for a practice session after so long.”

            “Ever the intelligent one, Mer.”

            They shared a smile.

            The day went on smoothly. They did a few rounds of exhibition-grade _Scheherazade,_ a few rounds of Rachmaninoff, and even tried teaching Jean-Luc and Kaitlin the rudiments of good, tender face-stroking (“Just go along the jawbone! Like this!” Charlie had called out). They called it a day by five, with Meryl and Charlie left in the locker room, unlacing their skates.

            Meryl knew that _this_ was her moment. She had to say _something_ now. She tidied up her skates faster, stood up, and took a deep breath. She looked back at Charlie, who was slowly packing his skates away. He looked slightly out of it, but a tad happier than he had looked all week.

            Meryl rehearsed her words, and they came out perfectly.

            “Charlie? You know… that I know, right?”

            Charlie looked up at her blankly. Meryl went on hurriedly.

            “Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that … well, that whatever happens, I’m here for you. Davis and White for life, right? We’re a team. I’m your partner, you’re my best friend. I look out for you. So … if there’s anything you need or anyone you need to listen to you, I’m here, okay?”

            She winced inwardly at the awkwardness. But Charlie smiled.

            “I know,” he said quietly. “Thanks, Mer.”

            _Message received._ Meryl could’ve danced in relief. She smiled back, turned around, and walked away, feeling so much lighter than she had been since Charlotte's text message weeks earlier.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

          “I know,” he said quietly. “Thanks, Mer.”

         Charlie watched Meryl’s retreating back.

         He _loved_ that girl. What she just did – as little as it seemed – reminded him of one of the thousand reasons why. Feeling a little silly, he looked down and grinned at his skates.

         He _loved_ Meryl, he really did. And she _did_ point out one of the tenets of their relationship. Whatever happens, they were friends first. Partners second. And friends and partners looked out for each other. _Always._

         He did not know what they would be in a few months, in a few years. He did not know if the breakup with Tanith was for the best or another colossal mistake. He did not know when he would finally wake up without the guilt of what he had done.

          But he did know one thing. Meryl was his _friend_ first and foremost. Maybe, when they were both ready, he would come out and tell her of everything in his heart and soul. Maybe, the day would come where they could finally conquer the terrifyingly vast and unknown _what-if_ of the last decade they spent together.

            But whatever would happen, he was going to hold on to the friendship they had, to the immeasurably long and shared history together, to _her_ with all her joy and sunshine and _love._

            Grinning in earnest, he kept away his skates, stood up, and left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do leave a comment, I do try responding to all of them! :) Or come over and shoot me an ask! Hope you liked it! Three more chapters to go (and they're all already planned out, mostly!) Many thanks for those who have left comments, kudos, and advice! Great people, you all are ;)


	8. and point it home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the most magical time of the year and Meryl and Charlie find their own magic. 
> 
> "And just like them old stars  
> I see that you've come so far  
> To be right where you are  
> How old is your soul?"  
> -"I Won't Give Up" by Jason Mraz  
> (as tweeted by Meryl Davis, 10 September 2014)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forewarning you all about the length of this chapter! I think I got carried away a bit. Wishing you all would enjoy it, nonetheless!  
> Another note: the setting of this story is my entirely fictional version of the real place. Hope it doesn't bother any of you!

_Take this sinking boat and point it home_

_We've still got time_

       They were in Sun Valley again.

        It was Christmastime, with the scent of cinnamon and peppermint laced through the air, the snow crunchy under their boots, and sharp crisp _cold_ prickling through noses. It was also Meryl and Charlie’s first holiday season, in more than eight years, that was not ridden with training schedules, ranking worries, and sponsorship duties. They were, instead, crammed with the demands of full-time college students. There were endless homework assignments, research papers, essays, group projects, online quizzes, _exams,_ and so much more of the business they missed out on in the last eight years. They were stressed, appalled at the exorbitant costs involved in acquiring an education, and tired of the daily drives to Ann Arbor, the professors who couldn’t understand _why_ they had to miss a few classes for training sessions (“But you’re on hiatus! What else are you doing?” one petulant professor exclaimed) for their shows.

        Jacqui had taken one rather fond look of the two of them, arms outstretched, mouths agape, and fast asleep over their textbooks in the Whites’ dining room one Friday night, and decided that her kids needed another vacation.

        Cheryl had agreed.

        And so there they were, booked for two weeks in the best rooms Sun Valley had to offer.

        Clayton and all of Charlie’s siblings were there as well. Even the Shibutanis had taken time off their busy training schedule for a quick vacation in the resort with their parents. Tessa and Scott quickly joined in – it was their first vacation together as a couple and the picturesque mountain resort was all kinds of perfect.

         Charlie couldn’t be happier. He was with his family and his best friends – _Team Canton –_ and their families. It was his favorite season. And he was _at peace._

         He had no idea how it came to be, but after Meryl’s little assurance months earlier, life had taken a turn for the better. Their _relationship_ had taken a turn for the better. Perhaps it was because they found a new and intensive bonding activity that replaced most of their training hours. School took a lot of them and only they understood each other’s unique predicaments chasing after a college degree in their mid-twenties. Perhaps it was because they were daily carpool buddies now and any degree of awkwardness between carpool buddies was universally loathed.

         But if he had to be honest, he knew _why._

         It was because, for the first time in too many years, he no longer had to pretend to love one woman on ice and television day in and day out, and go home to another woman at night. The latent guilt was gone. He was free to pine and puzzle and contemplate guiltlessly, to catch himself inadvertently staring – _gazing –_ at Meryl, dozed off on his front seat, as he dropped her off at night after school, to bring little things – her favorite coffee, a Halloween present, a chocolate bar or two, _DJ –_ to the rink on the days he knew she needed them.

          Tanith was doing well. They were still Facebook friends who actively liked and commented on each other’s pictures. There was no hint of resentment or loathing from Tanith, who now went on to be NBC’s top commentator for the season.

          Charlie was free, inside and out, and he _loved_ it.

          There were quick, impatient raps on his hotel room door.

          “Uncle Charlie! Alex and Scott are here and we’re going to play, _remember?_ ”

           It was his nephew Vince. And it was their first day in Sun Valley. Grinning, Charlie stuffed his gear inside his bag and walked to the door.

          He had family duties to fulfill, after all.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

          “I love shopping!” Maia yelled.

          Meryl giggled at the sight of Maia running through the passageways of Sun Valley’s shopping outlet village. The Shibutanis had been having an exceptional season, medalling twice and claiming the highest score for their short dance in one of their meets. Their short Sun Valley weekend trip was an unexpected break Maia had been longing for.

          They walked through the rows of shops. They passed one that looked like a costume place and Meryl froze and gasped.

          “That’s a perfect dress for a short dance!”

           Maia stared blankly.

           Meryl gave her a glance and strode inside the shop. Maia followed suit, looking slightly worried.

           “No, really! Look at the detail! I love it, it looks so _clever._ ”

           “Meryl, the short dance this season is the paso doble, remember?”

            Meryl let out a brief giggle. “No, silly! _Next_ season! It’s the Ravensburger Waltz!”

            She felt the garment with her fingers, reveling at its intricacy. It was no figure skater outfit, but it had the elements and design detail of one. She continued to ramble on.

             “It’s _so_ pretty! I’ve learned so much from Dancing with the Stars and I know this one’s a fairly good outfit! So perfect for a sort of modern-ish feel. I mean, Charlie doesn’t even have to be in a crav -”

            Meryl and Maia froze, staring at each other, mouths agape.

            Meryl was aghast – she had been rambling on almost subconsciously about costume ideas for a season they weren’t sure they were taking part in. It had been _months_ since the conversation with Charlie in the Arctic Edge conference room and they were no closer to a decision than they had been then. _How_ ingrained was competitive skating in her life?

            Very much, it seemed – she barely needed to _think_ about it.

            Maia’s face still registered blank shock.

            “We still haven’t decided,” Meryl whispered. “Not at all.”

            Wordlessly, they walked back out to the cold, with Meryl grabbing – _just in case,_ she thought wistfully – one of the shop’s calling cards.

            Maia let out a squeak. “You’re coming back?”

            “I told you, we haven’t talked about it since … six months maybe?” Meryl replied with a sigh.

            “Yeah, I believe you. It’s just, it’s been so _weird_ without you guys around and even if, you know, we’ve sort of been winning, we miss you a lot. It’s different when you guys are there.”

            “Maia...”

            “What I’m trying to say, really, is that we’re here for you, okay? We’ll be supporting whatever decision you make. Well,” she gave a little laugh. “You _do_ have to make a decision.”

            Meryl slung her arm over Maia’s shoulder. “I know, Maia, I know.”

            They walked on, but Meryl couldn’t miss – couldn’t _forget –_ the genuine hope in Maia’s eyes after the shock wore off. She had couldn’t keep herself from grinning. Figure skating was an intensely competitive sport but she knew she couldn’t have found better friends elsewhere.

 

           

 

           One of Sun Valley’s outdoor rinks was newly resurfaced and the members of Team Canton were having the time of their lives. Casual hockey was prohibited, but that did not deter Scott, Charlie, and Alex from racing across the ice on their _toe-picks_. Maia, Meryl, and Tessa just stood nearby, giggling (“Oh, these _idiots,”_ Tessa eked out between spurts of laughter), until Scott and Charlie raced across the ice and lifted their – now shrieking – partners bodily in the air. Alex, still laughing, whipped out his iPhone and began filming.

            Meryl was still laughing even as Charlie tossed her in the air, caught her in his arms, and gently set her down. There was an odd look on Charlie’s face.            

            “What?”

            “Remember that dance we did for Dancing With the Stars?”

            _How could I forget?_ Meryl thought.

            It was one of her favorite dances. It was to one of her favorite songs, in one of her favorite dresses, and with one of her favorite people. As Sharna helped out with the choreography work, she lamented how it was only a bumper, a brief minute (“They build up anticipation for this and all we get is twenty seconds?” “I get to choreograph the world’s best _ice dancers_ and it’s only for twenty seconds?”) until she marveled at the world-famous Davis and White chemistry and connection (“Oh my _god,_ I _am_ choreographing the world’s best ice dancers!”). To save on time and effort, a lot of their skating lifts were incorporated, and Sharna had often gaped at the intricacy of the lifts.

            “Yeah, I do.” Meryl said finally.

            “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

            Meryl was, she really was. But she couldn’t _believe_ it.

            Before she could react, Charlie scooted backward and yelled, “ready?”

            _Oh god._ “Ready!”

            She leapt into his arms and with both of them counting under their breaths, they did the brief step sequence of the dance, sans the tender part in the end.

            “Whoa, that lift at the start!” Alex called out, clapping furiously. Maia, who had taken over the iPhone, was nodding furiously.

            “You never know, we’ll be at pairs next year!” Meryl joked.

            Scott snorted. “Charlie’s too short. And you _can’t_ dominate two disciplines! Come on!”

            Charlie laughed him off. “That’s not happening.”

            Maia, Alex, Scott, and Tessa glided away with Scott’s apparent promise of teaching the Shibutanis how to do the perfect goose lift.

            Charlie looked at Meryl once more, another curious look on his face.

            “What now?” Meryl sighed.

            “There’s a lift I want to try,” Charlie said slowly.

            Curiosity piqued, Meryl raised an eyebrow. “Which one?”

            Charlie grinned.

            Half an hour later, a dozen run-throughs, a couple dozen of new coinages, and innumerable allusions and inside references later (“The Maks one! Nope, the Val one!” “The swingy one!” “The Zendaya flippy one!”), Meryl and Charlie had the workings of a new ice dance lift. It was different, involved the extensive use of their toe-picks, and was vaguely reminiscent of the contemporary dances in Dancing with the Stars.

            They were slightly out of breath, flushed red with the cold and with the physicality of the lift, but they were giggling like children.

            “That was _good,_ ” Meryl said.

            “Yeah, it was!” Charlie agreed happily. “I can’t wait for us to knock their socks off next sea – ”

            They both froze and Meryl had a vague sense of déjà vu – _hadn’t I done the same just a few hours earlier with Maia?_ she thought – as they stared at each other, mouths agape.

            _Next season? Charlie’s thinking of competing next season … too?_

            Meryl almost couldn’t believe it. It was late December, a good six months away from when they had to decide with complete seriousness, and they were _both_ unconsciously thinking of the next season. She couldn’t quash the rush of delight. After all that has happened, they still were hopelessly in-tune even on something as important as this.

            Charlie blushed furiously. “I mean, next _month._ Next… seasonal skating show. Next …” he trailed off.

            Meryl smiled at him, patted his arm, and scooted backwards.

            “Better brush up on your waltz, then, mister!”

            Charlie’s smile was blinding. Meryl knew she said the right thing – it wasn’t the right time to decide on their retirement or comeback, but she knew she _had_ to let Charlie know that, after months of open-ended questions and the tiny shred of lingering apprehension for their abrupt announcement of missing out on the previous season, they were finally, _finally_ on the same page as skating partners.

            With a jokingly-done basic waltz pattern, Charlie skated to Meryl with a goofy grin. Linking his arm with Meryl’s, he gently led her to the exit, where Scott, Tessa, Alex, and Maia were waiting.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

            They were on the homestretch of their little vacation and Charlie _knew_ that there were things that had to be said. There were things that had to be acknowledged, especially now that they both seemed to be yearning for a comeback. A comeback meant a training schedule, costume consultations, media training – innumerable hours, days, months, _moments_ together. And Charlie was not going to spend those with unspoken sentiments between them. It was not practical and it definitely was not _conducive._

            More importantly, Charlie knew he was damned, so utterly damned, if he spent those moments without Meryl at least knowing of the oceans of emotion he held for her. Now that he was wholly free to _love_ her and pine for her, he found that love – unspoken, seemingly unrequited _longing –_ was more than capable of _drowning_ him.

            And he knew the only way to save himself.

 

 

 

 

            It was ten minutes before the New Year and the Davises and Whites were settled in one of the lodge’s cozy little living rooms with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the mountains. There were fireworks scheduled and the flat screen television was set on the revelry in the metropolises.

            Charlie, lounging on the couch with Vince and Avery, saw Meryl walking over. She sat next to him with a smile and handed him a glass of champagne.

            “Been a long year.”

            Meryl sighed happily. “Been a long year,” she agreed. “Amazing year?”

            There was a dead beat of silence. Charlie felt Meryl shift anxiously. He had to grin.

            “Amazing year,” he agreed honestly with his whole heart and soul.

            He meant it, he really did. It was far from an easy year – they endured the most intensive training, they struggled through the half of the season, the whirlwind press tours after their win, Dancing with the Stars, the whole affair with Tanith – and he knew this was the year he felt the most _exhausted_. But somehow, it was a year that he knew he could never forget. This was the year one of his most important childhood dreams came true. This was the year he made history happen with his best friend. This was the year he achieved what so many could only dream of coming close to. There was an expensive, gold-plated, _priceless_ disc of gold in his bag that was testament to how, in the space of four and a half minutes, they reached unsurpassed perfection. This was the year that saw the culmination of eighteen years of hard work and tears and sweat and blood and he was so so _so_ grateful. It was true – this was the year in which he found his greatest point of exhaustion when they attempted to juggle Dancing with the Stars _and_ Stars on Ice and what was close to his greatest point of anguish when he broke up with Tanith. _But_ this was also the year where he found his moments of greatest happiness. He won an Olympic gold medal, after all. And nothing could compare with that moment after their free dance where they came to the realization that they had _done it._ He also joined a national prime-time television dancing show and it was _fun._ There were moments that stood out – Meryl’s shining, joyous face in their bumper dance in Dancing with the Stars, the proud smiles his parents after the flower ceremony in the Olympics, Scott’s uproarious laughter, Alex’s uncontrollable laughter as he filmed them across Japan, his new dog bounding in his home.

           It _was_ an amazing year. Charlie could never deny that. And somehow, he wondered how he could ever top it.

           A few seconds were left to the New Year. Everyone had stood up in excitement. And suddenly, Charlie realized he knew all along how the coming year was bound to be better.

_“3 … 2 … 1, HAPPY NEW YEAR!”_

            Champagne bottles were popped, confetti rained down, and everyone milled around, proffering hugs and kisses. Through the melee, Charlie saw Meryl walking back to him, her face flushed with champagne and happiness.

            “Happy New Year, Charlie.”

            “Happy New Year, Meryl.” He paused. “Happy birthday.”

            She grinned at him happily, looking glad that he remembered – _how could I forget?_ Charlie thought – and murmured her thanks.

            Perhaps it was the high-quality alcohol in him or perhaps it was tradition bearing down on him, but he _felt_ that he had to kiss Meryl. Right then, right there, with her in her sparkly red dress and bright joyous eyes with love and happiness shining out of them.

            But he didn’t. Instead, he enveloped her in a hug she promptly, _perfectly_ returned.

 

 

 

 

            It had taken a bit of convincing, a few favors pulled here and there, and the exasperated telephoned advice of Scott Moir for Charlie to finalize his _plan._ It was the simplest plan – no frills, no fusses, but it did involve a bit of permission granting and under-the-table agreements. It felt odd to have a plan for something so conceptually simple as _telling_ Meryl of his feelings, but he felt that after all those years, he _had_ to do something more than sit her down with a cup of generic coffee.

            And it _was_ her birthday the day before. It had been a festive, fun-filled birthday and Charlie had not wanted to intrude on it with _declarations._ Whatever may come of it, however she may take it – he honestly had no idea what to expect – he had to make sure that she would get something more substantial out of it _somehow._

 

 

 

 

            “Where are you taking me?” Meryl stage whispered, giggling.

            All Charlie had told her was that she had to dress warmly. She was bundled up in one of her best coats, a scarf wound around her neck, her hair perfectly fixed but let loose, her makeup light but immaculate. She was _gorgeous_ and Charlie could not help but stare at her as he led her through hidden passageways, staircases, and a short, brief hike up a hill. The weather was perfect, the sky clear and cloudless, and Sun Valley was gently covered with a few inches of white snow.

            “Here we are!” Charlie said with a flourish, pulling apart a wall of brambles and opening a short gate.

            Meryl gasped. They were on top of an elevation that commanded the best views of Sun Valley. The ski slopes were in full view, the mountain lodges with their chimneys dotted the expanse below. They could see the lights of Sun Valley from a distance, golden and twinkling. Even the quiet interstate was in sight, the occasional truck zooming by.

            But the best sight of all was the inky sky, dotted so innumerably with stars. From their vantage point, the glimmering expanse felt close, so encompassing, it was almost overwhelming how beautiful it was. It felt like nothing short of magical and even Charlie had to crane his neck in silence and marvel. It was as beautiful as he imagined, and he couldn’t think of a better place in which to tell Meryl of the vastness of his emotion, of the way he loved her, come what may.

            “Come sit with me,” Meryl said, who had seated herself on the ground. Charlie obliged, took a thick fleece blanket from the satchel he had brought along, and draped it on both of them.

            “It’s so beautiful here,” Meryl whispered, voice choked with awe.

            Charlie felt a rush of pride. _Perfect_ Meryl. Olympic gold medalist Meryl. Dancing with the Stars mirror ball champion Meryl. Straight-A-and-running-for-honors Meryl. And he, Charlie White, could still find ways to astound her.

            They sat in tranquil, peaceful silence. Charlie couldn’t help but think of how he proposed to Tanith. They had trekked as well through the tropical jungles until he found the perfect spot. This felt like a complete turnaround. With Tanith, _everything_ was moving – the waterfall, the numerous birds, the humid, sticky air. Now, the air was freezing, the sky felt impossibly near, and everything felt in place, settled, _calm._

            Just like he was.

            “Meryl,” he began.

           “Hmm?”

            “… _Iloveyou,”_ he blurted out, his words running together.

            He could have smacked himself upside the head.

_Way to go, Charles._

             He felt Meryl stiffen beside him.

             “I know, Charlie. You told me, remember?” she said jokingly, but there was an odd wavering in her voice, an undercurrent of _something._

             “No _no,”_ he cried, trying to salvage the situation. He turned to face her, looking at her squarely in the eyes. “I love _love you._ ”

              He took a steadying breath, and went on.

             “It took me so _so_ long to figure it out. I don’t understand it either, how could I be so _slow._ But I’m here now, I’ve gotten here, I’m _here._ And I need you to _know_ how much I’ve – ” he stopped, realizing how positively _cheesy_ he sounded. Meryl was gaping at him. But he had gotten so far, he reasoned out, so he might as well go the distance.

            “I need you to know how much I’ve _fallen for you,_ ” he said finally.

            Meryl’s eyes softened almost imperceptibly. _Was it a trick of light,_ Charlie thought, _or were they welling up in tears?_

           “I don’t know, Meryl. Maybe it’s because once I realized we aren’t _always_ going to see each other, I felt so lost and all I could think of was _no_ and that I was so damned if I’d let you drift away. But maybe it’s just me growing up. I have no idea, Meryl. I know we agreed so long ago to never get into a relationship because of our career and we wanted success and all but … it’s pretty much a moot point now, isn’t it?”

           Meryl chuckled through eyes that, Charlie ascertained, were _definitely_ watering.

           “So Meryl, I want out of that stupid deal. I can’t begin to tell you of all the nights I stayed up wondering and hoping and _dreaming_ and wanting and I can’t, Meryl, I _can’t._ I want to _be_ with you. I want _you._ I’m at my best when I’m with you. And you’ve been such a wonderful, irreplaceable part of my life and I can’t – I can’t live without you.”

           There was a dead beat of silence. And Charlie felt that he said too much, but there was no turning back now – he meant every word of it. Meryl turned to look away from him and he could hear her sniffling quietly.

 _Oh god,_ he thought, thunderstruck. _I made her cry so soon after her birthday._

          But when Meryl turned back to look at him, there were no dreaded tears cascading down her cheeks. She smiled waveringly at him, swiped her hand across her cheek, and sighed.

          “Charlie,” she said. “You don’t know how _long_ I’ve wanted you to tell me this.”

          Charlie tried not processing what she had just said. She went on.

          “And, thing is, Charlie, I feel exactly the same way.”

          She said it so matter-of-factly, so readily, so _honestly,_ that Charlie’s mind was stuttering. _She had? Really? What? How could I not have noticed … this?_

           His disbelief gave way to reason. They’ve been attuned for so long, it made sense somewhat. And perhaps, _perhaps_ this was one of those times where the signs were all there, carefully laid out before him, and he had chosen, subconsciously or otherwise, to ignore them.

           There was a tendril of impenetrable joy growing in his soul and he tried his best to quash it.

           Seemingly reading his mind, Meryl gave him a soft smile.

           “But,” she began. And Charlie felt his heart sink a bit. “I don’t think … I don’t think we can be together _together_. Not – not yet.”

            She sniffled. Charlie opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off, gently.

            “It’s that I don’t want to be with you. I _want_ to be with you. More than a lot of things. More than almost anything. But I don’t think either of us is ready for it yet. You – you just broke things off with Tanith less than a year ago. That was a five-year relationship, Charlie, and it was a great one. I know it was. And I broke things off with Fedor less than a year ago as well. I have nothing against hooking up so soon, but … I don’t want to _hook up_ with you. I want to be with you and grow with you. And I think that maybe we need some time completely single before we’re ready for each other.”

            Charlie was drowning in the truth of her words. There was a part of him that wanted to beg her to reconsider, to even go as far as apologizing for mucking up the last five years. But there was the greater part of him that knew she was right, that maybe they needed to test things out, to find themselves, to _be_ themselves before they committed fully to each other. After all, he was barely twenty-two when he entered into a long-term relationship. Maybe he _did_ need time to be completely single in the prime of his life.

            “I love you _so_ much, Charlie. You have no idea.” Meryl whispered. “But I think we both need this.”

            Charlie looked at her through eyes that were – _rather pathetically_ , he thought – clouding over with tears. “I know, Meryl.”

            He had no idea what to feel. On one hand, he was drowning in the joy that _Meryl loved him too._ But on the other, he was faced with the somber reality that he could not be together _together,_ not just yet. And until when was this grace period supposed to last?

            What if Meryl ceased to love him _that_ way and found someone else?

            What if Meryl decided that it was not to be?

            There were numerous fears running through his soul, a great apprehension of the gaping chasm of uncertainty that lay before them.

            He stood up and pulled Meryl along with him. Just like he did the day they received their Olympic gold medals, he tucked her to his side. Meryl wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his chest, like it was something they had rehearsed. Eighteen years of partnership and he still could not help but marvel at how perfectly they fit.

            For the third time in recent memory, he said quietly, fervently, “I _love_ you, Meryl.”

            In response, Meryl tiptoed and kissed him on his cheek. It was sweet and gentle but it felt like fire burning through him nonetheless. As if on cue, the sky exploded in bursts of color as Sun Valley’s fireworks show began. There was another reason Charlie had chosen that spot. He had meticulously noted the schedule – pilfered from the staff’s Surprise for Guests list – and made sure that he knew where the best place for viewing the fireworks was. Meryl loved fireworks as a child and judging by her rapturous smile through her earlier tears, she still did.

            They stood there for a while, in each other’s arms, watching the magic unfold.

            Meryl gazed up at Charlie, her face shining by the red glow of the fireworks.

            “Don’t worry, Charlie. We’ve still got time.”

            Charlie heard what she wasn’t saying.

_Don’t worry, Charlie. I would always be here._

_Don’t worry, Charlie. I’m still your best friend, no matter what._

_Don’t worry, Charlie. I’m not going anywhere._

_Don’t worry, Charlie. With you, it would never be too late._

_Don’t worry, Charlie. You mean so much to me._

_Don’t worry, Charlie. I love you. I always have. And I always will._

            It was difficult, it really was. But in that moment, he did not care. He loved Meryl. And she, after _everything,_ loved him. What else, indeed, mattered?

            He closed his eyes and breathed her in, reveling in the realization that this year, medaling chances aside, was going to be _golden._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do leave a comment! I do try responding to all of them and I genuinely appreciate your notes of encouragement. I have particular feelings about this chapter - I love it because I do try to live vicariously through my characters and the scene was something close to my dream scenario. At the same time, I hate it because, well, what happens now? 
> 
> Also, did you catch the in-story references and reminders? :>
> 
> Can't wait to hear your thoughts! I can't wait to write out and post the next chapters. Two left and I'm thanking you all this early on for reading!


	9. a choice you've made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are always choices to be made  
> and sometimes, they're not made in the ways you expect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize it's been more than a month since I've updated this! But I really am going to finish this, I promise! 
> 
> One chapter left! 
> 
> Warning: as always, many facts here are made up, geographical or otherwise; also, it's longer than usual. Have fun!

_Raise your hopeful voice_

_You have a choice_

_You’ve made it now_

“Mer, it’s nearing six PM.”

“I know _._ ”

“That thing’s due in a week.”

“I know.”

“Come on, Mer.”

“In a minute.”

“ _Mer”_

Charlie was whining now, trying to keep his voice low in the half-full university library.

Meryl glanced up from her laptop and smiled.

Charlie felt his heart involuntarily skip a beat – _she is so beautiful_ – as he marveled on how easy things were between them, much easier and way more wonderful than he had expected to be. He had feared the worst – awkward silences, avoidance, missed calls and messages – before he had confessed, but now things were as perfect as they could be. They still had their shared silences, although they were a bit more laden. They still had their endless conversations, nothing changed there. But the best part, Charlie thought, were the _looks._ They were the five-second long glances that held meaning, held _promise,_ sometimes even held the resistance and apology Charlie had grown to accept. He _lived_ for those shared looks, thrived in them, replayed them in his head every night before he went to sleep, right before he sent a little prayer of gratitude and wonder.

They weren’t an item. They had _agreed_ not to be an item yet, swore on it under a starry sky two months earlier. There was no commitment.

But sometimes, _sometimes,_ Charlie couldn’t help but fantasize about how they would be _together,_ with all the trappings and titles of an official relationship.

Because as much as there was expressly no commitment between them, he knew there was. He was committed – heart, soul, mind, past, present, _future_ – to her.

Meryl snapped her laptop shut and stood up.

“Hallelujiah,” Charlie muttered with mock exasperation, throwing his hands in the air. It was his turn to drive them both home in their carpool scheme and thus had the right to insist on them leaving hours earlier. But he didn’t mind waiting for Meryl – he never did.

Meryl giggled, swatted at his curls lightly, and turned to stow away her things.

With a laugh, Charlie stood up as well and gathered Meryl’s books under an arm. Looping the other arm around Meryl’s shoulders, he led them towards the exit.

“Come on,” he said off-handedly. “Mom’s probably prepared a dinner or something.”

Meryl looked up in puzzlement. “For what?”

Charlie didn’t have long to wait. A slow smile, one accompanied by a hint of embarrassment, spread on Meryl’s face.

“ _Oh_.”

“Happy Olympic anniversary, Mer.”

“Happy Olympic anniversary, Charlie.”

With Charlie’s arm still looped around Meryl’s shoulders, they turned and strode into the dusky winter evening.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

Meryl was laboring under no delusion that it was not a perfect situation. Charlie now knew of the depth of what she felt for him and she knew, likewise, that he felt the same. But she had insisted what she knew was right – they were not getting together. At least, not yet.

It was a difficult situation and there were no words for their relationship. Best friends, yes. But they were definitely more than that. They were less than lovers, certainly. But with that gray area, it was difficult to dictate how she was to _act._

So Meryl, being methodical, made herself an ultimatum, her one ultimate, definitive rule. Gazes were allowed, long unseen looks of longing, fondness, or exasperated tenderness were permitted, fantasies about a future together were okay, an arm around his waist as he draped his over her shoulders was fantastic, extended hugs were permitted _._ But there was absolutely, _absolutely_ no intertwining of fingers, no romantic handholding beyond the rink, lest they be _together-_ together.

It was an odd rule, but Meryl stood steadfastly by it, being mindful that her fingers did not slip through and fill the gaps between his as they held hands every off-ice rehearsal. She was careful to avoid having their fingers brush against each other by accident when they stood so close, with a tantalizingly short space apart. She was vigilant as she shoved her hands inside the pockets of her coats as she walked alongside him through campus that winter.

She was nothing but cautious in fulfilling her self-imposed prohibition even as part of her laughed incredulously at the ridiculousness of it all.

But she knew _why –_ the image of fingers perfectly intertwined was always, _always_ the quintessential symbol of a relationship for her. Nothing was more perfect than hands fitting together perfectly, than the stroke of the thumb across the base of the other hand’s thumb, than fingertips on fingertips. She knew her hands had spent more time in Charlie’s own more than in anyone else’s – but all those moments were in the context of their skating or in the context of friendly comfort. Their fingers never intertwined – at least, not until they had to step up on the podium in Sochi to receive their medals, but that moment was too brief, too filled with exhausted, disbelieving _ecstasy_ for her to find much in it – and ice dancing mandated a different kind of hold, with her hand always abovehis.

So she fantasized, fantasized about walking hand-in-hand with him in the streets of some random European city, with his hair in all its fluffy glory glinting in the sunlight and their eyes would meet and –

“Earth to Meryl!” Charlie, apparently, had plopped himself beside her a minute earlier and was snapping his fingers in front of her vacant eyes with a look of incredulous disbelief and a hint of worry while Meryl was daydreaming about, well, _him._

She blushed furiously and busied herself with her skating bag. They were in the lobby of their hotel in Shanghai for the exhibition night of Worlds 2015. They had accepted the ISU’s invitation to perform and their “Say Something” costumes were stowed carefully in Meryl’s skating bag.

Meryl ostensibly cleared her throat. “Sorry – I was just … I was just, um, running through the choreo.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow and Meryl knew he didn’t believe her.

“Right,” he said. He turned to his own bag and Meryl silently gave a sigh of relief.

“So, we’re good with the choreo, right?” Meryl went on hurriedly. “I mean, it’s been weeks since – ”

The words died in her throat as Charlie brought out a bouquet of flowers and gave her a sheepish smile.

“ _Charlie.”_

Giving flowers, Meryl knew, was not the ultimate harbinger of a romantic relationship. They were _flowers,_ for goodness’ sake. She could remember so many Valentine’s Days and birthdays with flowers shoved under her nose by a much younger Charlie who was first prodded by his mother until he grew to take the initiative himself. They stopped, of course, as they reached their late teens and came to agree that a romantic relationship would only spell disaster for their Olympic dreams.

And now, with the context of everything that has happened, it was hard not to overthink as she automatically reached out and brought the beautifully bloomed flowers to her nose.

Charlie looked slightly embarrassed, ran a hand through his curls, and gave a little snort of derision.

“I know, I know it’s stupid but we did not get to celebrate the seventeenth and – ”

“They’re perfect, Charlie,” Meryl cut in gently, still admiring the small bouquet. “Thank you.”

With a visibly relaxed, still sheepish smile, Charlie melted into the luxurious couch. They were in the corner of the busy lobby and Meryl was grateful that no one was there to see the world-famous platonic couple in a tender moment involving _flowers._

“… are these,” Meryl began quietly, a slow grin of incredulous delight spreading across her face, “ _Kaitlyn’s_ flowers?”

Charlie looked shocked for a second, then let out a embarrassed chuckle.

“Andrew’s, actually,” he said. “I saw him about to toss it in the trash outside his room last night.”

Meryl had no idea what to feel. On one hand, she was relieved that Charlie had not gone on great lengths to acquire a bouquet of flowers for her on an otherwise uneventful night – _like a boyfriend would –_ and the whole thing, much like his mother handing him flowers to hand her on her birthdays as children, was simply a gift of circumstance, of Charlie finding the World Champion’s bouquet on its way to the trash.

On the other hand – and this was a feeling she guiltily tried to quell – she felt rather deflated that, well, Charlie had not gone on great lengths to acquire a bouquet of flowers for her on an otherwise uneventful night like a boyfriend would.

 _He’s not your boyfriend,_ Meryl reminded herself, _you made sure of that._

“You’re my gold medal anyway, Meryl,” Charlie said suddenly, quietly. And in that same moment, no amount of Meryl’s legendary self-control could prevent the rush of pink on her cheeks, the blinding smile on her face, and the overwhelming, torrential _joy_ that bounded through her.

She longed to reach out and, against all her own sensibilities, grasp his fingers and tell him, _and you’re mine._

But she did not, knowing and hoping that there would be a better time for it.

Instead, she punched him lightly in the arm, carefully stowed her prized bouquet in her bag – there was no use sparking rumors about bouquets shifting hands in the darkened corners of the Grand Hyatt’s lobby – and stood up. With a grin, she pulled him along by his wrist.

“Let’s go. We have an exhibition to do.”

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

Charlie found himself alone in the dressing room shortly before the exhibition. He shared the room with the other men – the medalists that included Alex, Jeremy, Jason, Evan, and Andrew, as well as those included in the special exhibitions such as Scott and Patrick Chan – and finding it empty was a relief and an oddity.

Shaking his head, he sat on the cold bench and pulled his skates out.

There was a knock on the door. Charlie raised his head to see Tessa poke her head in, take a quick glance around, and sneakily walked over to sit beside Charlie.

Charlie gave her a grin and a quick hug.

“Where’s everyone else?”

Tessa rolled her eyes. “Well, you and Meryl were _late._ I think all the boys went over for a few quick laps around the rink.”

“Oh, come _on._ We weren’t that la – ”

“ – What’s up with you and Meryl?” Tessa said bluntly, forcefully.

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “ _What_ – we were just late – ”

Tessa glared at him, her gray eyes piercing through.

“You gave her _flowers._ ”

Charlie’s forehead scrunched up in confusion – _how did Tessa know?_ Meryl was an expert at hiding things, at making sure the general public only knew what they wanted them to know.

 _Then again, Tessa_ isn’t _part of the general public,_ Charlie thought with a sigh.

Sensing his confusion, Tessa softened. “Kaitlyn’s my roommate and Andrew mentioned it to her in passing, how you got his bouquet. I mean, what else would you be doing with it?”

“Give it to my mother?” Charlie said weakly.

“… Your mother’s in Detroit, Charlie.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Charlie made a desperate noise. Tessa was a great friend – they had so much in common – but he wasn’t sure if he was about to answer any questions about his and Meryl’s relationship. Or non-relationship. It was something not even his mother completely understood; all Jacqui knew was that they were _okay._

But Tessa looked at him a little pleadingly, a little exasperatedly, and Charlie _needed_ to get it off his chest, so he gave another sigh, and started talking.

“I told Meryl I loved her.” Tessa made a strangled noise and her eyes widened comically. Charlie glared at her, and went on.

“And she told me she loved me back.” Tessa looked like she was choking in disbelief before the shock of some realization hit her and she calmed down somewhat.

“Oh, _right,_ ” she said a little airily. “You did break up with Tanith months ago.”

“ _Yes, Tessa,_ ” Charlie said a little exasperatedly. “Anyway, but we’re not together-together. She told me we couldn’t, not yet, and I agreed.”

“ _You doofuses,_ ” Tessa muttered. Charlie couldn’t disagree. “So what are you _now?_ ”

_Million-dollar question._

“I don’t know,” Charlie said with a helpless shrug. “You know when you tell a girl you like her, then she tells you she likes you back, then you walk away holding hands and going on dates and changing your Facebook relationship status? It’s like, she tells me she likes me back, _but we don’t walk away holding hands._ ”

Tessa nodded thoughtfully.

Charlie went on. “I think we’re just waiting for both of us to be, you know, completely ready. And I’m totally fine with that. I don’t want to mess this up. And after so long, I think we deserve both of us in the relationship completely and perfectly.”

“So now, you’re in an awkward stage between emotionally committed and _really_ committed?”

Charlie nodded.

“So what, do you go all holding hands and cheesy looks and kisses all over?” Tessa sounded genuinely curious.

Charlie felt himself reddening.

“Well – we _can’t_ go PDA because we’re not _together,_ right? We’re not like you and Scott – ” Tessa gave a sound of indignation “ – so we don’t go around acting much different. I mean I allow myself an arm over her shoulder, maybe a few more hugs, but _no kisses._ ”

“Well, I never expected you to go all kissy-kissy – ”

Charlie ignored her and went on. “That’s like, my ultimate no-no. Like kisses on the cheek like any normal acquaintances, sure. But absolutely no forehead kisses. _Absolutely not._ ”

Tessa’s indignation gave way to soft understanding.

“ _Oh, right._ ”

“Oh right what?”

“You mentioned this before. I don’t know, I think you were drunk in some Canton Christmas party.”

“ _What?”_

“You said,” Tessa gave a giggle. “You said that the cutest things for you in relationships are the _forehead kisses._ Especially when the guy’s taller. And Scott and I were wondering why you never did that with Meryl, I mean, you’re at the perfect height. So _that was why._ ”

Charlie was sputtering. He had no recollection of such an admission but he couldn’t deny how true it was.

“Take care of her, though,” Tessa said suddenly, seriously. “She deserves it.”

Charlie met Tessa’s intense stare and nodded, all trace of embarrassment about his little self-imposed rule forgotten.

“I will.”

Tessa smiled, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and left the dressing room.

Later on, as they wrapped their arms around each other to the closing notes of the Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto #2’s second movement for their encore, Charlie couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to casually, but meaningfully, kiss her forehead, like the Chmerkovskiys did so naturally with aplomb and sweetness. He wondered if her eyes would light up like they did when Maks did it. He wondered how it would make _him_ feel.

He closed his eyes a little more tightly and hugged Meryl a little more firmly. If Meryl noticed, she gave no sign.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

They were back in training. Marina had been more than pleased to take them back and with additional choreography input from Sharna, they were mid-way through putting together a free dance for the season.

It was summer, as well, and instead of going on the usual academic break and focusing on their skating, Meryl decided to take on a few classes. It was going to be difficult and highly illogical, she knew, but she did want to finish her degree before she turned thirty. Charlie had been appalled (“ _You’re going to run yourself ragged, Meryl,_ ” he had said), but had supported her, offering – _insisting_ – to bring her to Ann Arbor after their training sessions.

Meryl was grateful, she really was, but she couldn’t help feeling guilty. It had been more than six months since they had embarked on the odd halfway relationship between friends and lovers. Charlie hadn’t complained about their refusal, not once, but Meryl couldn’t help feeling that he was _waiting_ for her more than he was waiting for himself. It was guilt inducing – a sentiment not helped by Charlie’s unbelievable kindness as he fetched her in the morning at her condominium on the way to the rink, brought her to Ann Arbor, bought her little gifts every seventeenth of the month, and passed by the Davis family home with food every so often. It was like he was _courting_ her and Meryl wanted to tell him there was no need, that there was no need to woo her because over seventeen years and thousands of moments, she already had been.

She just needed them to be _them_ first.

Or so she told herself.

To take advantage of a Saturday afternoon that was as sunny as Michigan could ever get, she went for a jog around one of Canton’s public parks. Charlie hated cardio, hated with every ounce of himself, so Meryl did not see the need to invite Charlie along on what was normally a team-building exercise. This was her solitary time and she breathed in the crisp summer air in gratitude as her feet thumped on the concrete.

Another jogger, a man, caught up with her and kept pace – she didn’t mind, Canton, much less populated than Ann Arbor, was a safe town and there were people around the park who could come to her aid in the unlikely event that the man would turn out to be of the untoward sort.

 _Besides,_ Meryl thought smugly, _it’s not as if I don’t have the arm strength the beat them up –_

“Hey, Meryl,” the jogger said out of nowhere.

Meryl could’ve screamed if she hadn’t caught herself. How could she not, if the anonymous jogger she had been unconsciously planning to beat up turned out to be _Scott Moir_?

She came to a screeching halt, with Scott following suit, an impish smile on his face. She felt like decking him.

“What the _hell,_ Scott!”

“Great to see you too, Meryl!”

She had to laugh as she pulled him into a sweaty hug.

“I’ve missed you, you doofus!”

Scott patted her back and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“Me too, it’s been so long! Mind if I jog with you?”

Meryl rolled her eyes playfully and started jogging again, with Scott following in perfect unison.

“So,” Scott said casually. “What have you been up to?”

“Oh, you know. Training – I mean, you guys have changed training bases, I know – but we’ve been training and I’ve been studying – ”

“ – what’s up with you and Charlie?”

Meryl groaned. “We’ve been through this, Scott. I told you months ago, remember? We did the whole confession thing and we’re okay, we’re great, we’re wonderful.”

“I mean, how are you _now_?”

“What? We’re fine, what else can we be?”

Scott rolled his eyes.

“Come on, _Mer,_ ” he whined.

“ _No,_ Scott.”

“You can tell _Scotty,_ ” he said in a singsong tone in between pants.

Meryl shuddered as she slowed down to a walk.

“That might be the most disturbing thing I’ve heard, Scott.”

Scott gave another impish grin. “More disturbing than hearing Charlie sing ‘All by Myself’ in the shower at Arctic Edge in 2006?”

Meryl’s eye twitched. “Okay, maybe not as – ”

“ – or hearing Tessa trying to speak French?”

“ _Scott_.”

“Or hearing what you heard when you accidentally walked in the broom closet when Kaitlyn and Andrew were there?” Scott raised his eyebrows suggestively.

“Oh, god, _stop._ ”

“I don’t think I’ve seen a tomato redder than you were that time, Meryl.”

“Shut up, Scott … are they even a _thing_ now?”

Scott shrugged. “I don’t think even Pasquale Camerlengo knows and you know how these coaches are.”

“Right. Um, are Alexandra and Mitchell – ”

“ _Stop_ changing the topic, Meryl. So why aren’t you two together yet?”

Meryl would’ve normally been slighted at this invasive question, but it was _Scott_ and truth be told, it wasn’t a question whose answer she knew entirely.

“I’m not sure, Scott.”

“Really?”

“I mean, I told him that we needed time to be on our own first. That it was too soon after his breakup with Tanith.”

“Well, it’s been a year since their engagement.”

“Yes, but it’s been less than a year since he decided that he wasn’t going to marry her and that he wanted to be with me, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah, but what is ‘enough’ time?”

“That’s the thing,” Meryl sighed. “I don’t know. I have no idea how long this takes. I mean, I only know it’s right, I just don’t know.”

Scott chuckled. “Yeah, I know. There isn’t a rulebook entry for ‘what does a pair of best friends and partners do after realizing they want to be together after seventeen years, five of which were spent in a committed relationship.’”

Meryl gave a wry grin. “You and Tessa are so lucky.”

“Yes,” Scott said fervently. “Yes, I think we are.”

They sat on a nearby bench in companionable silence, soaking in the sunlight. It was an undoubtedly beautiful day, with the sunlight streaming through the clouds and families strolling around in shorts and sundresses. They both sighed in contentment.

It was Meryl who broke the silence.

“I think,” she said slowly. “I think I’m just waiting for that one moment, that one moment where I’d know that I _should_ be together with him, that it’s time, that maybe we finally deserve each other.”

Scott looked at her seriously. “I agree, but don’t wait too long, Meryl. You can’t – I mean, imagine the _irony_ if you go on for the rest of your lives without actually getting together. That’s way more tragic than your _Say Something_ narrative.”

Meryl chuckled. “I know, Scott. Thank you.”

She couldn’t tell Scott, but Meryl was hoping, and hoping desperately, that _that_ moment would come soon. That the universe would finally, _finally_ conspire to tell them that they could and _should_ be together in every sense of the word.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

Charlie knew Meryl was running herself to the ground, with her commitments to her academics and their now-rigorous training and even a few ballroom dancing shows ( _Dammit, Meryl,_ he had growled, only to have Meryl smile at him sweetly and apologetically). He was going to school as well, but Meryl being _Meryl_ had taken a couple of extra classes to speed up her way to her degree.

He knew, in a sort of sixth sense honed over eighteen years of partnership, that Meryl was going past the point of “fine” and steadily into the vicinity of “not good.” She had been sneezing her way through their trainings for a couple of weeks and Charlie had taken to leaving a box of tissues on the shotgun side of his sedan’s dashboard. Marina, with her hands full, hadn’t noticed Meryl’s persisting cold as she guided them through her choreography and Meryl had done well to hide it, taking the utmost care not to sneeze on Charlie’s face as they went through the routines.

Her voice was getting a little more hoarse each day – _definitely a throat thing,_ Charlie thought mulishly – until he could barely hear her speak and had to settle for their oft-quoted telepathy connection. It was disconcerting to witness Meryl, who was often a chatterbox of excitement in their drives home, was steadily getting quieter as the weeks went by, often falling asleep until Charlie had stopped right in front of her flat and gently nudged her awake. He watched her trundle her way up the stairs worriedly and wondered why she wasn’t _saying anything._

He knew, of course – they were back on the competition season mindset, in many ways routine and in many ways _different._ It was like falling back on old rhythms, of early mornings in the rink and late afternoons from school, of choreography brainstorming and music selections, of dozens of costume fittings and design sessions, of Marina being Marina, of figure skating fans being figure skating fans and watching, in the course of one season, their competitors adopt new ways of being better, faster, more artistic. But it was different. They had nothing to prove, at least, not to everyone else but themselves. They had won everything that could be won and changed the sport in unprecedented ways. So this time, they could relax a smidge – this was their comeback, after all, and no one made gold medal finishes so easily after a year off.

But they wanted to _win._

They had barely made the podium in Nebelhorn and they were determined to win Skate America. They _wanted_ to win Skate America and so they poured in the extra hours, gave up side projects, and went back to the old lifestyle.

It was no wonder Meryl wasn’t complaining about a cold, no matter how bad it was getting. Charlie tried, in vain, to tell her to take a day off, to sleep until noon, to get herself checked out by a medical professional. But as it has been for most of their lives, his pleas were no match for Meryl’s steely determination.

Marina finally, _finally_ noticed Meryl’s sluggishness, occasional vacant stares, and increasing sniffles a few minutes into a training session one Friday and ordered their practice session over. Meryl looked like crap – _as close to crap as Meryl can get,_ Charlie thought – and everyone who had seen her over the last few weeks knew that was due a long, long rest or at least a doctor’s visit.

Through grateful red-rimmed eyes and Charlie’s handkerchief held in panic over a steadily running nose that came with horrible-sounding coughs, Meryl nodded her thanks and skated to the rink exit, nearly tripping twice.

“Get her home,” Marina said, looking after Meryl’s retreating back in worry.

Charlie only nodded – _of course, he would_ – and sped after Meryl.

 

 

 

 

 

 

As always, Charlie stopped in front of her flat. As it had been over the last few weeks, Meryl had fallen asleep, occasionally sniffling even as her eyes were winched shut.

Charlie sighed. He hated waking her up, not when she looked cozy and rested on his front passenger seat.

He nudged her gently on the shoulder.

“Mer.”

Meryl slept on.

“ _Mer._ ”

He got only an unintelligible noise of protest.

“We’re at your place, Mer. Come on.”

The same noise of protest met him and he gazed at her with worry.

He tried a couple of times more, unbuckled her seatbelt, decided against honking the car horn, and briefly considered carrying her in. As his worry rose, Meryl finally stirred and looked at him with bleary eyes in puzzlement.

“We’re at your place,” he said again.

Meryl looked like she wanted to do nothing more than to curl up against the cold window and fall asleep again. But she dragged her eyes open again and, seeming to draw from every bit of reserve strength, opened her door, and nearly fell out of it.

“ _Easy,_ Mer!”

Cursing, Charlie leapt out of his door and was at her side in a blink.

Meryl glared at him silently. Charlie had to chuckle. Undoubtedly sick and throat ruined to silence, and Meryl still wanted to be intimidating.

Supporting her by her shoulders, he led her to the front door. Meryl fumbled with the keys and Charlie, making his decision in a flash, pulled her gently away and opened the door himself. As soon as they were inside, he scooped her up bridal-style and walked to her living area. Meryl made a sound of protest and tried to wriggle her way free, her dark eyes flashing. But she was too exhausted, too out of it, that Charlie had no trouble setting her down on her couch, where she seemed to melt amid her expensive pillows and fall asleep in seconds.

With a sigh, Charlie raced down to his car, grabbed both their bags, and returned, sitting himself on the single sofa across Meryl. It was mid-afternoon and he had nowhere else to be. And he was damned if he left Meryl, who was barely coherent enough to get out of a sedan safely, alone.

 _This_ was where he had to be and frankly, he did not mind.

 

 

 

 

     

 

A couple of hours ticked by and despite frequent, worried glances at Meryl’s sleeping form that had not moved at all, save to cough out so horribly a few times, it sounded like she was throwing up a lung, Charlie had finished reading his way through his Political Science homework. He had decided to wait until Meryl had awoken, to let her have a couple of hours in solid sleep. But it _had_ been a couple of hours and from childhood experience, Meryl was an octopus sleeper, as restless in sleep as she was awake. And her immobility now was highly worrying.

Standing up and walking over, he pushed away the blanket he had earlier draped over Meryl, and tried to nudge her awake again. He placed his hand under her jaw – he knew it was her tickle spot since he first danced with her eighteen years earlier – and immediately pulled his hand away.

Meryl was _burning up._

Charlie was panicking – how had he not noticed earlier? He was no doctor (or a thermometer, for that matter), but he was an Olympic-level athlete with a lot of physical training and experience and he knew, somehow, that fevers this high were never good, not even on a body in as perfect shape as Meryl’s.And with Meryl’s sluggishness and a seeming inability to even move, he knew he had to _do_ something.

“Meryl,” he said urgently, shaking her awake. “ _Meryl._ ”

It must have been the urgency in his tone, because finally, _finally,_ Meryl’s eyes flew open and she looked more awake than she did earlier.

“You’re sick, Mer,” Charlie said gently. “I think you need to see a doctor.”

Meryl shook her head.

“’m f’ne,” she croaked, missing out on a few vowels, but Charlie understood her perfectly.

“No, you’re not. Come on, I’ll drive you.”

Meryl glared at him, pushed away her blankets, and sat up wobbily. Giving Charlie a triumphant glare that seemed to say _see, I’m fine?,_ she planted her feet on the ground and stood.

Charlie relaxed – Meryl seemed to have a point. Perhaps his hands were just freezing, hence the seeming spike in her temperature, perhaps it was just another rundown case of some bug, perhaps she _had_ slept away the worst of it.

Meryl smiled at him through messed up hair, a sheen of sweat on her forehead, and an unsettling pallor.

And promptly passed out into his arms.

Charlie, who was praising every deity he could think of for his agile arms that saved Meryl from a concussion on her hardwood floor, was _definitely_ panicking now.

 

 

 

 

 

           

With Meryl gently laid back on the couch, Charlie stood and mulled over his options in lightning speed. He had to bring her to the doctor’s, definitely. But _how?_

Meryl stirred.

Charlie could’ve fallen on his knees in relief.

“Meryl,” he said quietly, but firmly. “I’m taking you to the hospital now, okay? I’m going to – ” He realized that there was no way he was buckling her up on the front seat as he sped to the hospital in worry. “ – I’m going to call Alex, alright? I need you to sit still. It’s okay, you’re okay.”

He felt like he was reassuring _himself_ more.

 

 

 

 

 

Everything else went by in a blur. Alex had agreed in a heartbeat and drove over, Charlie had carried Meryl to the backseat again as he felt – or _imagined_ – her fever rising every minute, they drove at a reasonable speed to Royal Oak Beaumont, into a thankfully empty receiving area. They waited for what felt like hours, called her parents, listened as the doctor explained about severe flus that could only be solved with a bit of antibiotics, rest, and fluids, were hugged in gratitude by Cheryl and Paul, and eventually, Charlie found himself alone in an awfully sparse regular room where Meryl was hooked up to a single IV that dispensed fluids.

He was _exhausted._

Alex had left hours earlier and Meryl’s parents had left an hour earlier with profuse thanks and admonitions as they told him to _go home and rest._

But Charlie wanted this time alone with his partner. He was worried, so utterly worried when she had passed out – Meryl _did not_ do that, not after she had nearly been drained more than a year earlier with a bad case of food poisoning before the Dancing with the Stars finale, not after he had accidentally given her a separated shoulder when they were much younger. His relief at finding out that it was all just a flu – and given everything, he could’ve smacked himself, what else could it all possibly be? – was overwhelming and he frankly just wanted to sit and well, _not feel_ after everything.

Meryl was sleeping peacefully, her hair framing her face softly, a little color back in her cheeks. As much as he wanted to sit down and _not think,_ Charlie couldn’t help but gape at how much he _loved_ her. It had been a whirlwind eighteen months, to say the least. In the span of exactly a year and a half, they achieved their Olympic dream, thought that their separation was imminent and inevitable, found their way back to each other as friends in the simplest and unlikeliest of ways, broke off old relationships, reconsidered and restarted the career that brought them together, and under the stars one night, acknowledged the true depth and meaning of the eighteen years spent in each others’ arms.

Things changed _so_ much.

But one thing was constant through it all – he _loved_ that girl and he always has.

They weren’t together yet and Charlie had often found himself floundering and hoping and _wanting_ , but he now realized that the time _would_ come, that after everything, he was sure, he was so _sure_ that they would be together, that it was just a matter of time.

He stood up, dragged his cold, hard chair so much closer, and unhesitatingly, without a blink, kissed her on the forehead.

It wasn’t how he expected his first kiss on her forehead to be – she was asleep, they were in the hospital after a harrowing day, and he had bags under his eyes and he was _tired._ But it was right, it was real, and he just _had_ to do it.

He loved Meryl with all of himself.

And he wanted – _needed_ – her to know that. He laced his fingers with hers, placed his head on her bed at her side, and drifted off to sleep.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 Meryl felt like _crap._

She knew she had been feeling horrible for quite awhile but she simply did not have the time to attend to it and simply soldiered on. She was aware of Charlie lifting her to her couch, of waking up all warm and clammy and feeling as bad as she ever felt in her lifetime, and of slipping into oblivion, jarred momentarily by Charlie’s arms breaking her fall.

Oddly enough, she felt a little better now – the bulldozer in her head had been silenced, the world did not feel like a freezer, and her lungs seemed to be doing their job pretty well. Bracing herself, she opened her eyes.

She was stunned to see the bland ceiling she recognized vaguely. Had it been _that_ bad? She looked around cautiously, the bland curtains and the IV stand and the sparse décor affirming her earlier assumption – she was in the hospital.

She sighed. Skate America was _weeks_ away and their choreography had not been changed much and –

Her thoughts went to a standstill as she saw the blonde mop of curls, the innocently sleeping face smushed on the bed beside her right arm.

_Charlie._

She had no details and things were fuzzy around the edges, but she had a vague idea of what had happened. And all she could feel right now was the immense rush of gratitude and _love_ for her partner.

The blond mop of curls was so lusciously tempting and she reached out, only to find her fingers intertwined perfectly with his.

 _Oh my god,_ she thought.

It was a testament to how natural it was – or how out of it she was – that she did not notice how their fingers were laced together, how she could feel every calloused finger, how their palms met perfectly, just as she always imagined it would.

She closed her eyes, relishing how her one self-imposed rule had been unraveled and broken so wonderfully, so rightly.

As she drifted back to sleep, the last thought that raced through her mind was how she was so sure, so absolutely certain, that she wouldn’t mind spending a great chunk of the rest of her life with those fingers around hers, just as they were in that moment.

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! Hoping for your comments ;) 
> 
> Also, I started this out as a fluffy piece inspired by "Once" but it's now nearly thirty thousand words - this is crazy.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had taken a long, winding road.  
> And they were there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last (and well-delayed) installment of "Point it Home," well in time for the first anniversary! Hope it fulfills expectations!

_Falling slowly sing your melody_

_I'll sing it loud_

It was taking far too much wheedling, Meryl thought, for her to be let out of her own _home._ She had been discharged from the hospital with strict orders to rest and take at least five days off skating. It was day four now and she had spent the greater part of the previous days sleeping, watching reruns of _Full House,_ and sneaking in a few hours of schoolwork. And she was bored, restless, and itching to go out.

If only Charlie, who was sitting across her with his brow furrowed in concentration as he read through his textbook, would _let her._

Of course, there was no real matter of “letting” Meryl do anything – she was her own person and she could very well insist on leaving her home should she so insist. But Charlie had looked at her with his wide, innocent, _pleading_ eyes and begged her to stay home and _rest._ And really, he _had_ done so much for her and Meryl couldn’t say no, not when he came over with her missed schoolwork in one arm and a bag of takeout in the other. So there they were, curled up in Meryl’s plush single seater couches, Meryl tapping away halfheartedly at her laptop, Charlie buried in his political theory textbook, an ocean of photocopied handouts on the coffee table between them.

“Charlie – ” Meryl began, before she was cut off with an almighty sneeze from Charlie.

She laughed at his sheepish grin.

“Bless you,” she went on. “Charlie, I hear the weather’s really good today, not too chilly, just the rare day of not-so-freezing fall. I mean, you’re not even in a thick jacket.”

“Yeah?” Charlie said cautiously.

“Yeah!” Meryl said, overly cheerful. “I’m planning to go out tonight – ”

Charlie groaned.

“Oh, _come on._ ” Meryl said exasperatedly. “I’m not sick, Charlie _._ ”

“But you _were,_ ” Charlie muttered.

“But I’m _not._ I’m going crazy here _._ Doctor said I’m practically a hundred percent now!”

“Doctor said five _days._ ” Charlie pinched the bridge of his nose, his exasperation smothering.

“Five days before _competitive-level training._ ”

“You passed out. And your fever was more than a hundred and four. And I _had to bring you to freakin’ Beaumont._ ”

Meryl softened – she could see Charlie’s fists unconsciously clenching over the edge of his textbook, his eyes hardening at some memory. He was grossly overreacting, she knew, but she could understand. They were both extremely sheltered, cautious, and healthypeople who did not see any frantic emergencies in their lifetime, save for an unusually low number of injuries. And Charlie, well, Charlie _loved_ her and how could she blame him for his worry and concern?

“I know, Charlie. And I’m sorry. But I’m all right now. I really am. But I’m _bored._ I’m _really bored._ You’ve been bringing me food and homework and company and I love it – ” she faltered “ – I love _you._ But really, I’m okay now. So yes, I would really, _really_ want to go out.”

They lapsed into silence. Meryl’s eyes drifted back to her laptop, debating with herself about the merits of simply getting up and leaving, Charlie’s concern be damned. But she _couldn’t_ do that, not after everything. So she waited quietly, watching from the corner of her eye how Charlie was staring solidly, blankly, at the same page of his political science textbook.

After a few minutes of this, Meryl released a sigh and moved to extricate herself from her seat.

“I’m driving,” Charlie said suddenly. Meryl looked up in surprise. Charlie was smiling at her rather wryly, his eyes glimmering with amusement at his own surrender.

“ _What?_ ”

“ _I’m driving.”_

Meryl could only grin at him uncontrollably as she threw off the wooly plaid blanket she had been nestled under, revealing how she had been in her jeans all along, practically ready to go. She leapt up, hurriedly arranged her schoolwork on coffee table, snatched up her handbag, and dashed to the hallway, where she shoved on her coat and boots.

“I’m ready!”

Charlie shook his head, half-amused and half-exasperated.

“And _nope,_ ” Meryl exclaimed. “You are _not_ bringing your textbook along!”

Charlie laughed and gave her a rather sappy look.

“As you wish,” he said. Meryl had to look away to hide a rather involuntary, utterly hopeless smile.

 

 

 

           

They ended up in Westland Mall. It was past noon and the lunchtime crowd had come and had gone. They sauntered around, Meryl cozily bundled up in her sweater and warm scarf, her coat slung over her arm, and Charlie with his hands stuffed in his jacket. They were walking so closely, with barely half a foot apart, and Meryl was afraid that they would awkwardly fall out of pace and crash into each other. But they didn’t – eighteen years of training their coordination and synchronization apparently on ice apparently extended into their normal.

They walked on, covering meters and meters of linoleum floor and dozens and dozens of topics as they talked and debated and _laughed._ They entered shops, judged displays, and fitted odd scarves and gloves, with Charlie practically beaming in delight as they picked up their monthly sponsorship gift items from Ralph Lauren and Meryl giggling uncontrollably at the sight of posters from Abercrombie’s latest advertising campaign. They were unrealistic, overly posed, and she could only imagine the photographer coercing Fedor to gaze at the other model’s eyes as he laughed.

With Starbucks drinks in hand, they found themselves sitting on a bench. Meryl had vague recollections of herself sitting on the same bench – only, it was a darker place then. Now, the same bench felt impossibly brighter, the world impossibly more _right_ as she sat on the hard wood with her best friend by her side. She loved him. And he _loved her._

It had taken all of her to say what she said months earlier in Sun Valley. It had taken all of her to sit calmly and tell Charlie that as much as she loved him, they could not be together, not yet – that there were still questions that needed to be answered and hearts that needed to be readied. She had not known how long it would take or if it was a matter of time, only that Charlie would wait for her and that she would let him.

She looked at Charlie, who looked back with wide, confused eyes as he sipped away at his chocolate frappe.

Meryl smiled. She knew – had known for long – that she was _ready._ The perfection of waking up with Charlie’s fingers intertwined with hers had jolted her, but there were all the little moments, all the little glances and smiles that made her truly and undeniably _know_ that it was time.

She did not know, however, _how_ to tell Charlie. Some part of her floundered in shame at making him wait so indefinitely, even as she knew that it was what was right.

_Was he even still waiting for her?_

She quashed her own doubt – she could never forget the look in Charlie’s eyes when she had awoken, never could forget the joy and the wonder and the relief. Charlie loved her. And after surviving all the mess and excitement and seemingly final endings of the previous year, she knew they were bound for life. It was only a matter of _how._

Meryl knew how she wanted to be bound with Charlie for life and hoped that he felt likewise.

She just had to find out _how_ to tell him.

They both stood up wordlessly. As they walked towards the mall exit, Meryl surreptitiously slid her fingers through Charlie’s. She held her breath.

Charlie stiffened in shock for half a second, then smoothly, like had been born to do it, like he had practiced it in the same way he had practiced all their acclaimed, gold-worthy dances, he lifted their hands and maneuvered so that his arm was draped over her shoulder, Meryl leaning into him, their hands still so firmly intertwined.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Charlie was lounging around in his mother’s home for a visit – his mother had messaged him with a plea to see DJ and Finn – and he was sauntering around their den, smiling at the new photographs his mother had arranged on the mantel.

“You seem particularly happy,” Charlotte piped up from her position in the couch, Finn cradled in her arms.

Charlie had to chuckle – the last time he and Charlotte were alone in the den, he was in the midst of a personal crisis. It was an important crisis that got him to where he was, but he couldn’t help but laugh at the coincidence – same den, same sister, a conversation that seemed to have the same intensity, but altogether extremely different circumstances.

He sat himself

“I am. I really am.”

Jacqui rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Care to share?”

“I don’t know,” Charlie said. “I mean – We’re going back to training next week and it’s great and I found out how I could enhance the music a bit more and – ”

“ – _are you and Meryl a thing now?_ ” Charlotte cut in bluntly, seemingly unable to hold herself in.

“Charlotte!” Jacqui half-yelled, reprimanding, although Charlie couldn’t miss the way her eyes widened in curiosity as she turned to look at him.

Charlie sighed. He knew there was no sense on asking _how_ Charlotte knew. Rumors flew fast, after all, and bemoaning that reality did no good.

“We’re not,” he said, after shooting Charlotte an exasperated glare.

“WHAT?” Jacqui and Charlotte yelled together,

“Didn’t you like, _confess_ to her on a friggin mountaintop last new year?” Charlotte demanded.

“Wait, wait, she said no, right?” Jacqui said frantically.

“But it’s been _forever_!” Charlotte exclaimed. “And you act like you’re together! My friend saw you in the mall! Together! Holding hands!”

“Yes, I know!” Charlie exclaimed. “I _know_ and it drives me nuts. I mean I know I should _wait_ for her but she’s been acting so differently recently and I love it but I’m just – if she isn’t even going to give it a go, why bother hoping?”

“Or maybe,” Charlotte began sarcastically. “She just _likes_ your company a bit more and you’re _overthinking_?”

“Charlotte!” Jacqui exclaimed, quite reprovingly, again. Charlie vaguely wondered how Charlotte, in her late twenties, was enduring her mother’s reprimands.

“No, but really!” Charlotte said defensively. “ _Talk_ to her.”

It wasn’t a new idea – while Charlie personally felt that he had _enough_ talking over the last year, he knew that it hadto be done. He had thought it over, over and over throughout the year, at their trip to Shanghai for Worlds, at numerous families, and maybe every single day of their training, in the quiet seconds in their locker room as they laced up their skates, knees a few inches apart. He wanted, no, _needed_ to ask her if there was a chance, if there was even the barest hope of a possibility that she _was_ ready, that they could be completely and well, _officially_ together.

“Yeah, you should talk to her,” Jacqui said cheerily. “I mean, what do you have to lose?”

Charlie gave his mother a half-hearted glare. He couldn’t blame her for her cheeriness amidst his puzzlement – his mother and his sisters stuck by him throughout the entire debacle, had patiently heard him out and offered their advice and kind words (in Charlotte’s case, this was often in the form of stinging doses of reality). And now that he thought of it, it _was_ a rather easily solvable situation with only one clear solution, at least to him. No hearts were to be broken – except, perhaps, his own, but that was preventable and highly unlikely.

He made a noise of frustration.

“I’m just _confused,_ ” he groaned. It was a rather pointless observation – that was the crux of his current predicament. But he _had_ to say it – saying things often, as he had learned over the years, made things feel more _real._

Charlotte snorted.

“No kidding, Char,” came her retort dripping with sarcasm.

Charlie could only shake his head.

 

 

 

* * *

 

“So, the skirt has to be a bit longer and a bit more sweepy. Maybe a _tiny_ bit of gradient – Jean-Luc and Kaitlin had _amazing_ gradients but I don’t want to risk looking like walking tie-dye. What do you think?”

At the lack of response, Meryl glanced over at Charlie, who was spaced out and had been gazing out his front seat window. Meryl stifled a giggle – she hadn’t expected any less. Throughout their skating career and even their Dancing with the Stars stint, he had dreaded costume consults, often had to be bribed to go to his fittings without complaint, and rarely gave more than a perfunctory noise of affirmation or disgust at the costume ideas that came about. They were parked outside their costume maker’s office, a tad bit early but unwilling to enter the place ahead of their schedule. And Meryl wanted to _plan,_ with her knees folded and propped against the steering wheel, a sketchpad in her hand, an iPad on the dashboard, turned to a collage of her favorite gowns.

Their dances were well received in Nebelhorn. Their costumes, not so much. And Meryl was determined to change that regardless of Charlie’s reservations and automatic satisfaction with their outfits. This _was_ Skate America that was coming up, after all, and it was possibly the most publicized, most televised GP event and they had to look _good._

“Charlie!” she said urgently, mirth dancing in her eyes, as she gave him a little shove.

She giggled as he came to with a start, rubbed a hand over his face, and looked at her blearily.

“What,” he muttered, glaring balefully at Meryl’s sketchpad that featured a man in a very frilly costume.

Meryl sighed.

“Our costumes were horrid – ” Charlie gave a noncommittal grunt “ – and we need to fix that. So we’re here.”

“We’re here,” Charlie echoed.

“So I’m just going to go and explain what we want, our new ideas, yes?”

Charlie gave another perfunctory noise of agreement.

With a sigh, Meryl turned back and went on with her sketches, voicing out every move of her pencils on the sketchpad.

“So – hm, let’s have a bit of a flare on your sleeve here. Just a bit. And you can have a bit of sequins …? Or maybe not – let’s get something else. What’s a good embellishment? Solid crusted rhinestones? Too overblown for the budget,” she went on and on, her fingers and colored pencils tracing and shading and firmly marking parts of her sketch. She kept her eyes trained on the sketchpad, on the growing picture of a new set of costumes.

She could see Charlie’s gaze on her from the corner of her eye. It was, in contrast with his earlier nonchalance and annoyance, brimming with a sort of tenderness Meryl couldn’t quite decipher. It was serene, but so, so _alive_ and full of _longing._

It would’ve normally been disconcerting and rather disturbing, but it was Charlie and she knew that had she would have looked at him with exactly the same expression. And now, she could feel a tendril of warmth coursing through her, an exciting joy, a paradoxical sense of tranquility and exhilarating want.

She couldn’t help the slow smile that spread across her face as she tried, _tried_ not to look at him, not let him see the equally damning _love_ in her eyes.

She went on sketching, rambling on about rhinestones and Swarovski crystals she couldn’t care less about because what mattered more, really, than knowing that you were back something you really, _really_ love with someone you love even more?

It took a few more pencil strokes of navy blue, a streak of silver, before she finally surrendered and turned, meeting Charlie’s eyes, and there was a moment of charged silence, a moment Meryl wanted to last for so much longer.

“You’re beautiful, Meryl,” Charlie said quietly, before drawing back in surprise at his own candor.

Meryl knew she should’ve been equally surprised, but there was something so _right_ about it, that she could only smile back.

“Thank you,” she said softly. Then brightly, cheerily, “So! Let’s head inside, shall we?”

Charlie snapped out of his reverie and groaned good-naturedly.

They both stepped out into the sunlight and went back to what Meryl could never really conclusively call “work.”

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

It was a rather beautiful day for fall in the Midwest. Leaves were slowly gliding down, the sun was there but not imposingly so. Had DJ and Finn been with him, Charlie was sure that they would have had the time of their lives amid the leaf piles across the Arctic Edge parking lot.

He stepped out of his car and breathed in deeply.

With the joy of the last few days in the enforced break in their training, he had time to be grateful for everything – their illustrious career, their families, their friendshipdespite everything, and somehow, their acknowledged yet unspoken _love._ He was now at their second home over the last decade, where their dreams were begun and pursued. They were on a break, he knew, but he couldn’t help but be drawn back for some alone time and a bit of exercise. It was always like coming home, even in the days that saw them exhausted to the core and ready to give up.

It was routine – he pushed through the infamously heavy glass doors, greeted the guard with a wave, and made his way to the locker room. Sometimes, particularly after the Olympics, there would be a young skater shyly inching forward for an autograph. There was none now and Charlie reached the room unhindered.

Charlie had a lot of fondness for the room – its perpetual sweaty odor and starkly white walls and industrial lockers notwithstanding, this was a room of memories. There were countless moments alone, with his friends from hockey, with the other skaters, with _Meryl._ This was where he and Meryl spent the night when they realized they had locked his keys _in_ the car and they were too tired to figure out an alternative. This was where they once – _once,_ and they were teenagers, so Charlie rarely counted it – had a yelling match about _skating._ This was where Meryl told him, oh so casually, that she was dating Ryan Bradley like it didn’t make his world feel like it was splintering apart.

In many ways, this room had stood as witness to him and Meryl and their growing up. It was calming, it was comforting, and it was even, in some strange way, something like _home._

There were better concepts that were like _home_ for Charlie, such as the fingers of a certain lady intertwined with his, the tantalizing scent of lavender shampoo, sometimes too-red hair flinging about – but those could wait, if only for a bit.

Skate laces firmly tied, Charlie headed for the rink.

Skating alone was always an experience, especially for someone who spent most of his life mainly as one half of a pair. He closed his eyes as he rounded the corner to the entrance and breathed in the smell of freshly smoothened ice and felt the little nip of the cold on his nose. He looked forward to a few slow laps around the rink, maybe a bit of spread-eagles to practice, and a few solo twizzles here and there.

He opened his eyes.

And blinked.

Because on the rink, skating serenely on her own on the opposite end of the rink, was _Meryl_ herself.

Charlie was taken aback – he had his heart set on skating alone or with strangers, had mind set on testing out his axels and salchows, and … _wasn’t Meryl supposed to be on skating hiatus?_

“Meryl!” he yelled and sped across the rink, all ideas of slow laps forgotten.

Meryl turned, grinned, and went back to her spirals.

Charlie careened to a halt right before her.

“You’re not supposed to be back! Doctor said five _days_!”

Meryl smiled at him placatingly. “And it’s day six,” she said, before launching herself into a camel spin.

“ _Meryl,_ ” Charlie groaned.

Meryl was another blur of pink as she skated spirals around Charlie.

“Meryl, come on!”

There was a giggle and a snort as Meryl launched herself to a few single jumps.

“Meryl, for the love of _god – ”_

Charlie was cut off as Meryl gracefully slid to a stop before him. Her face was flushed, her hair mussed up in all its glory, and it was all quite enthralling, with the mischievous glint in her eye.

Then she turned nervous and before Charlie could figure out why, before he could get the words out, Meryl placed her tiny, perfectly manicured hands on his either side of his face, and kissed him.

On the mouth, with her lips melding perfectly with his.

Charlie’s mind was short-circuiting in shock, his heart thumping wildly in surprise, but he did the only right thing that could be done then, the only thing he wanted to do for that moment and perhaps for so many more moments in a lifetime to come.

He kissed her back.

 

 

 

* * *

 

It was a moment Charlie could have happily frozen for the rest of his life, but the details all but blurred into one happy blip of bliss. He could remember the way his fingers entangled in her hair as he wrapped his arms around her, the way her arms wrapped around him. He could remember how the kiss felt so real and so right and so perfect _._ He could remember how, when they finally broke apart, Meryl gazed at him with those eyes, those _eyes_ and he could only gaze back.

Words weren’t needed. And maybe between them, they never really were.

They talked it out, eventually, ironed out the details, and soon, their family and friends knew that after almost _decades,_ the golden couple of ice dancing were more than just business partners or lifelong best friends – they were _together._

The media did not know and they were bound to, soon, and problems would come and the honeymoon stage would be over, but frankly, Charlie couldn’t care less.

Not with the way Meryl was smiling at him shortly before they took to the ice in St. Paul, Minnesota. Not with how he remembered they spent the previous Christmas as a couple,how he finally, _finally_ kissed her when the clock struck twelve on New Year. And certainly not with the way she turned to him and kissed him briefly, a half-second of bliss, a half-second _moment_ that took a long, winding, road to reach.

“I love you, Charlie,” Meryl said quietly, taking his hand.

“I love you, too,” he said as fervently.

Their cues were given, the announcer yelled out their names to rambunctious cheers – this _was_ Nationals, after all, and they were back, and the world couldn’t be happier – and they took to the ice, hand in hand, unbelievable exhilaration in their hearts.

This was coming home, after all.

And they had made it.

 

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much for all your support! This has been quite a journey and I never expected to get this much support from all of you. Every "hit" or every kudos or comment I get makes me so incredibly happy. 
> 
> It has been a crazy trip and this took a lot more effort than I thought it would, but it seems to be quite worth it. I'll always have a soft spot for this story, my first multi-chapter fic, my first real fic, really. It started with the idea of having an elaborate fic to "Falling Slowly" but it turned out quite differently and I'm quite glad it did. 
> 
> Writing fic has reintroduced me to the idea of me as a writer and I'll always be grateful for it. 
> 
> Thank you again! Hope to hear from all of you in the comments!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into fanfiction since my days of writing Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys fanfiction in my pre-teen years. I hope this works out! I have a plan for the succeeding chapters and I would have done it all in one go had it not been for the demands of college. 
> 
> Please do leave a comment! I'd love to know how it is.


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